Apocrypha
by jikanet-tanaka
Summary: "Of course, the twins had lied to him all these years. The world had clearly gone mad, and it fell to the two of the them – the ones forsaken by History – to be its judge, jury and executioner." The story of a previous bearer of the White Chronicle. Huge spoilers for the entire game.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Apocrypha  
**Rating**: T (some language, graphical depictions of violence later on)  
**Characters**: Royal Family of Granorg, pretty much an ensemble cast  
**Summary**:

"_Of course, the twins had lied to him all these years. The world had clearly gone mad – and it fell to the two of the them – the ones forsaken by History – to be its judge, jury and executioner." _

The story of the previous bearer of the White Chronicle. Obviously, spoilers all around. Seriously, don't read it if you haven't finished the game.

Features a lot of headcanons, crappy worldbuilding, a protagonist going off the slippery slope and one particular pair of siblings being all cute and happy (before things unfortunately went south for them).

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Radiant Historia (except the game cartridge of course). It all belongs to those genius at Atlus.

* * *

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
You left me in the dark  
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
In the shadow of your heart_

_And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat_  
_I tried to find the sound_  
_But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,_  
_So darkness I became_

Florence + The Machines, _Cosmic Love_

* * *

The corridors of Castle Granorg were swarmed with servants today, all of them scurrying around for a reason Heinrich did not know. The king's youngest grandson was a short and skinny ten-year-old who mostly spent his days in quiet solitude and the agitation in the castle on this otherwise unremarkable day unnerved him terribly.

Heinrich clutched his books closer to his heart, glancing nervously at the maids and valets who were too busy to pay him any mind. He had been unceremoniously forced out of his favourite hiding place, the library, when his father's butler had come to tell him the crown prince wanted to see both he and his brother Victor as soon as possible. A sliver of anxiety had sprung up in Heinrich's heart at this summon. The king's eldest son rarely concerned himself with the presence of his children, especially the youngest of the pair. What could the man want from the two of them now?

The door to the crown prince's study was slightly open and Heinrich could hear the low rumbling of his father's voice coming from within. The boy hastily dropped his books on the floor before he entered the room, interrupting the older man mid-sentence. At the sight of his youngest son, the crown prince's expression noticeably darkened. Heinrich could glimpse his brother Victor – a broad-shouldered teenager with coarse black hair – leaning on a bookshelf by the wall. The two brothers exchanged quick glances, and Victor's face broke into a sneer Heinrich knew all too well.

"Good day, Father," Heinrich said, ignoring the fleeting image of Victor's foreboding grin. The words came out rather shakily and he cursed himself for it. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Victor's smile growing meaner.

"Heinrich," Father grumbled, "sit," and he motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk. The boy sat, while his brother slumped into the other seat.

"You must be wondering why I have called you here," Father said, pausing to clasp his hands in front of his mouth. "There is something of utmost importance I must talk to you about." The man sighed and Heinrich's apprehension cranked up a notch. "I would have preferred to speak of this later, but the events of today have changed my mind."

Victor leaned forward and there was a shady look in his eyes.

"Is this about the Ritual, Father?" the teenage prince asked, his nonchalant tone barely covering a touch of morbid curiosity.

Heinrich pointedly did not look at his brother as he waited for his father to continue. _The Ritual_. The word itself was ominous, but rolling on Victor's tongue, it hinted at even darker things. Heinrich knew that this mysterious tradition usually happened each decade or so and that it was somehow responsible for preserving the safety of all living things on the continent. He was also aware that the last one had claimed the life of his grandfather's younger sister. Already, this particular information had left him unwilling to learn more about the subject. And the fact that Victor now appeared fascinated by the topic was enough to instantly kill any lingering interest he had in the matter altogether.

"The Ritual?" Heinrich finally repeated after his brother, trying to sound as aloof as Victor had been. "What does it have to do with what's happening today?"

"It's because Grandfather is going to be killed today," Victor answered bluntly. Heinrich made a sharp turn to face him.

"_Wh-what?_ What do you mean – ?"

There was a soft growl coming from their father and suddenly the crown prince slammed his hands on the desk. Heinrich nearly jumped out of his skin, but Victor was unstirred in the face of their father's anger.

"Silence, _boy!_" the crown prince spat, his red eyes blazing at Victor. "Do not speak of my father's murder in such an insolent manner!"

_(Murder?!)_

Heinrich reeled, staring at his father in silent horror. Victor only gave a noncommittal grunt.

"I still don't get why Grandfather is the one who has to be sacrificed," the teenage prince said, raising a single dark eyebrow as though he was genuinely confused by the turn of events. "He's the king, after all. Why can't we use Uncle Conrad instead? If we follow tradition, _he's_ the one who should do it."

The crown prince was quiet for a moment but his eyes were still flashing with fury.

"Are you really so _ignorant_, boy?" Father's voice finally came in a low hiss. "Do you truly believe your grandfather is so eager to see one of his own sons murdering the other?"

"But it's not like Grandfather being killed now will save Uncle Conrad in the end," Victor countered. "At best, he'll only give him another ten years since Uncle will still end up dead by your hand in the next Ritual."

The crown prince regarded his eldest son with an expression Heinrich could not decipher. Slowly, he slid in his chair, sighing. The man had never looked as old as he did now. "For my father, ten years is enough," he said, still glaring at Victor from under his thick eyebrows. "I pray you will understand the reasoning behind his sacrifice the day you find yourself with children of your own." Father's red eyes suspiciously veered toward Heinrich as his sentence came to an end.

The boy's cheeks flushed under the stare and he lowered his eyes to evade his father's gaze. All this talk of death and murder and sacrifice was starting to make his head spin. And there was this tiny but frantic voice whispering dreadful things from the back of his mind; yes, Father could have called them here to announce the king's death, yes, he could have summoned his sons to tell them of the Ritual being performed today, but what if there was more to it? What if the crown prince had specifically requested Victor and Heinrich's presences for another, darker reason? One that raised a possibility so terrifying it almost chilled the blood in Heinrich veins.

Father's eyes were still fixed on Heinrich as he started to speak again. "Our bloodline was entrusted with the throne and the loathsome task of performing this Ritual on the day our ancestors disrupted the balance of Mana centuries ago. The Royal Family of Granorg have thus always guarded the continent, either as Kings and Queens for all to see, or as Sacrifices in the covers of the shadows. Both duties are necessary to preserve the well-being of the world." His eyes flickered rapidly from Heinrich to Victor. "Both duties are equally honourable for ones with blood as noble as yours, my sons."

Heinrich's heart was drumming in his chest. The horrific prospect his mind had dreamed up crept back into his thoughts as he rapidly passed over everything he knew. The king's younger sister, killed shortly before his birth. His grandfather – an anomaly – taking the place of the one who would traditionally be sacrificed. His uncle who would instead be murdered a decade away from now. Which meant that many years later, the one who would be chosen as a Sacrifice could only be –

"_No – _!" the young prince suddenly cried out and now his voice was truly shaking, "Father, you can't possibly – ! Y-you don't mean for me t-to – !"

The older man only buried his face in his hands. Perhaps it was a trick of his imagination, but Heinrich could swear he saw the corners of his brother's mouth twisting into a satisfied smirk. "Victor will succeed me as king," Father eventually said after a tense silence while Heinrich fought back sobs, unwilling to let Victor see his distress, "while you, Heinrich, will be a Sacrifice for the Ritual."

The boy rose from his chair so quickly he almost felt nauseous. Without so much a glance backwards, he bolted from his father's study, running as fast as his short legs could allow.

* * *

**_Author's notes:_**

_Soooo, Radiant Historia, such an awesome game! In fact, my love for this little gem of Atlus completely sidetracked me. At first I was like, "yeah, this is a pretty awesome RPG" and then I was "nooo, Stocke, omg, what are you trying to do, kill me with feels?!" _

_My opinion of Heiss went pretty much the same way, haha. It turned from "yeah, he's a pretty trolltastic boss, that's kinda funny" into "omg! he's a crazy asshole!" to finally "nooo, you jerk, stop making me cry with your sad backstory and your parental love for Ernst/Stocke/whatever-his-name-is" And then he became my second favourite character after Stocke. I really have no damn idea why... even at the end of the game, he still was more than a little creepy..._

_Sooo I've decided to write this fic about this assholish maniac, and it's essentially a character study on how an average dude became a yandere time-traveling trollish undead ninja because his brother made the mistake of trying to kill his nephew. Yeah. Enjoy! _

_(oh, and I'll try to make some sense on how he always sings Ernst's praises, but absolutely wants to murder the hell out of Eruca. That part always made me go like 'Bwuh? How can you hate Eruca? She's awesome!')_

_I've taken Heiss' real name from a number of Japanese fanfics, which all apparently found it in the World Guidance book. I've no idea if it's his true name, but whatever. _


	2. Chapter 1 - Brothers

Radiant Historia – Apocrypha

_- Part I -_

Heinrich

_- Chapter 1 -_

Brothers

* * *

The courtyard of Castle Granorg was bathed by the gentle rays of the afternoon sun on this late day of spring. By the castle walls, a pair of knights were chatting quietly as they patrolled the area. Not far away, an old servant swept the stony pathway that led to the palace's pantry while a pair of gossiping maids passed by at a brisk pace, balancing heavy bags of laundry on their hips. Under a solitary tree, unnoticed by the guards and servants, a pale young man was sprawled on his back, his expression hidden by a book lying open on his face. For the past hour or so he had attempted to decipher this infuriatingly cryptic treatise about the uses of healing magic and – to his intense annoyance – he had failed miserably at this task.

The young man's eyelids were growing heavier and he could sense a headache rearing its ugly head. He groaned from under the book, cursing the scholars of the Old Empire who, it seemed, could not be bothered to write something that was somehow readable. _No wonder magic has regressed so much after the Empire's fall_, he thought bitterly.

Lulled by the chirps of the birds nesting in the tree above, he let himself drift into a doze, only to be almost immediately roused from his slumber when the prattle of two whispering voices floated to his ears. With an irritated _tsk_, he slipped the book from his face... and was greeted by the sight of a wooden sword hovering a mere inch away from his nose.

With a loud screech, the young man abruptly sat up, sending his book and glasses flying. The owner of the wooden sword burst in laughter in response.

"Whoa, whoa, Uncle Heinrich! Calm down!" the boy with the sword said, his blue-green eyes brightening up in a baffled smile. Next to him stood a young girl with thick golden curls decorated with blue ribbons. She held a similar weapon, but in contrast to her brother, she seemed concerned rather than amused.

"Uncle, are you alright?" Heinrich's niece Eruca asked meekly. He shot her a sullen look in reply and her cheeks slightly reddened. She turned to face her older brother."Ernst, you shouldn't have surprised him like that, that's not nice!"

"You could have poked my eye out!" Heinrich agreed, scowling at Ernst while the boy let out another nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! You just wouldn't wake up!"

With a sheepish grin, Ernst gave his glasses back to Heinrich, and the young man could only snort indignantly as he took them from the boy's hand.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Heinrich said as he adjusted the glasses on his long, hooked nose, "aren't you two supposed to be at your lessons right now?"

The two children exchanged coy smiles.

"Well, we were at our fencing lesson right now, but we were taking a break to go find something to eat," Ernst explained, shifting on his feet in a sudden bout of shyness. "And when we saw you, we thought we could ask you to join us. It would be fun, right?"

Heinrich hummed a wordless reply and passed a hand through his pale brown hair in a futile attempt to comb it. He was a dreadful fencer, but Ernst and Eruca were reasonably talented and they gave him much more trouble than he would have expected (or liked). The last time he sparred with them, they even managed to secure a victory; the two had unexpectedly ganged up on him, Ernst tugging one of his arm while Eruca had grabbed his leg tightly, and Heinrich had ended up toppling to the ground, swearing profusely all the way down.

Heinrich sighed at the memory. It had not been one of his proudest moments. "I'm sorry, children, but not today." He crawled on all fours to retrieve his book, taking on an affected air as he continued. "Perhaps you had not noticed, but I'm rather busy at the moment." He was a bit spiteful that he still had no clue on how to put in practice even the most basic of healing spells. He prided himself in being one of the best – if not _the_ best – mages in the entire castle, and to be unable to mend the smallest of cuts gnawed away at what little self-esteem he already had.

"You were busy sleeping?" Ernst asked, his expression innocent except for his gaze – the blue-green eyes were full of mischief.

"I was only resting for a bit," a peevish Heinrich replied.

Ernst appeared thoughtful, but there was still that spark in his eyes Heinrich could not find himself trusting. "Wait, maybe you're afraid to lose again? If that's the case, wouldn't it be great to have a rematch with us? To beat us and regain your lost honour or something?"

"Ernst!" Eruca cried out, looking at her brother in dismay.

Heinrich crossed his arms, raising a single eyebrow. "Why, you ill-mannered brat," and, as he pushed his glasses up his nose, his face broke into a ferocious grin, "if you insist so much on having your sorry little behind being _thoroughly_ thrashed..."

Ernst smirked back in earnest. "I'm sorry, Uncle, but that won't happen. You'd have to catch me first, you know, and you've always been so _slow_..."

Behind Ernst, Eruca pursed her mouth, her brow furrowing in apparent disapproval.

"I really don't get the two of you sometimes..." she muttered as Heinrich jumped to his feet to follow the two children to their fencing lesson.

* * *

The training grounds were soon filled with the sounds of wood clashing with wood and the laughter of the two children. The master-at-arms, a fifty-something-year-old man with thick eyebrows named Rutger, advised them to begin with a friendly melee. As always, Ernst quickly deemed his little sister to be an adversary unworthy of his talents, turning instead all of his attention to Heinrich; uncle and nephew spent most of the battle rapidly exchanging dramatic one-liners while Eruca stood on the sidelines, watching their duel of sword and wit with an expression torn between amusement and annoyance.

Noticing his niece's increasing boredom, Heinrich steered himself toward where the poor child hovered. Eruca promptly seized the occasion, creeping up behind her uncle to poke him in the back with the tip of her sword. Heinrich lamented his defeat with loud theatrics, prompting a few chuckles from Ernst and even a proud smile from Eruca. Afterwards, he joined the master-at-arms to watch his nephew and niece spar while the old man barked instructions at the children in that thick, rough brogue of his.

"Young Master Ernst!" Rutger shouted, "remember to keep your stance wide and low!"

"Got it!" Ernst shot back as Rutger moved to face Eruca.

"Lady Eruca, please lower your sword a bit! You have to be able to protect your legs as well as your upper body!"

"I'll keep it in mind, thank you," the girl replied, "one day, I'll even be able to beat Ernst!" There was a stubbornness in her eyes that Heinrich found endlessly amusing.

The boy only let out a loud and insolent '_hah!_' in response.

"There's no way that will ever happen!" he said, turning to give his uncle and Rutger a confident cock of the eyebrow.

It was the opening Eruca had been waiting for. With a determined expression, she dashed at her brother, her blue dress flapping in the wind. Ernst hurriedly raised his practice sword, but she swung her own weapon with great force, sending his wooden blade flying away and the boy tumbling to the ground.

The siblings gaped at each other, both seemingly shocked speechless. Ernst in particular appeared so awestruck by his sister's feat that Heinrich had to bite down a laugh at the sight of his expression.

"_Whoa_, Ruca, that was really something!" the young prince finally said, his surprise and embarrassment gradually giving in to that characteristic cocksure grin of his. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

Eruca blushed and tucked a golden curl behind her ear, giggling and giving a small mock curtsy to her brother in reply. Her smile soon faded, however, and a startled, almost frightened expression settled on her face. Heinrich and Rutger followed the direction of her eyes, the master-at-arms quickly dropping to his knees at the sight of the person who stood in the passageway above the training grounds.

It was Heinrich's older brother and Ernst and Eruca's father.

Victor, the ninth king of the blessed kingdom of Granorg.

"At ease, Rutger," Victor rumbled, his gaze focused on Ernst. The boy went hastily to his feet, his face red with shame.

"So, you've let yourself be beaten by a seven-year-old girl, Prince Ernst?" the king addressed his son. "I would have thought the master-at-arms would teach you better, considering you will succeed me as leader of this country someday."

Rutger gave a nervous cough. "My apologies, Your Majesty. I shall train the prince harder from now on."

"You should clearly start by ceasing the girl's lessons," Victor replied coolly, "she will not need them."

Eruca became very still, her arms dropping limply at her sides. Her big blue eyes stared hollowly at her father. Heinrich felt an sudden urge to physically harm his brother. The king had not said it outright, but the implication was still there. She was his second child. She was the spare. Like her uncle Heinrich before her, she would probably end up being –

"Father, that's unfair!" Ernst cried out, "she loves these lessons, you can't – !"

"I can and I will," Victor said, his pale eyes finding Heinrich, "but I am not here to discuss such things." Heinrich held the man's gaze, trying to show as little of his displeasure as he could while the king smirked. "Actually, I was looking for you, dearest brother."

A sense of foreboding crept over Heinrich. "How strange. I had the impression you rather disliked my company."

"You are not mistaken," the king responded drolly. "But I'll put that aside for the moment being. Come to my study immediately. There is something rather important we must talk about." And the man turned on his heels and disappeared inside the castle.

Heinrich let out a loud sigh. Somehow, he already had an inkling of the topic his brother wanted to address. There existed only one particular issue which would be pressing enough to prompt Victor to get his lazy behind off the throne to wander the castle in search of his brother.

"What's his problem?" Ernst muttered, sounding almost disgusted.

Heinrich grimaced. "It's nothing that should concern you, Ernst," he replied through grit teeth, purposely not meeting his nephew's gaze. "Nothing that should concern you."

* * *

Heinrich never got along with his elder brother, but their relation had turned from a frosty neutrality into outright hatred seven years ago, shortly after their father's death. While their father's corpse had barely started to cool, Victor had called his younger sibling to an impromptu meeting with the few lords who had managed to win their new liege's trust. Heinrich had been just out of his teen years then and to find himself under the scrutiny of many of the most important men of the country had been one of the most terrifying experience of his short life.

He could recall clearly how he had stood in silent distress in the middle of the vast council hall as the lords bickered among themselves, all of them eager to offer their daughters or nieces or sisters as potential brides for the new king's younger brother. He had endured their scheming and barely disguised scorn for most of the session without uttering a sound, but then, for a reason he still could not name, something had flared up inside him and he had abruptly shouted "_I'm not getting married!_"

A murmur went through the lords' midst at his outburst. Heinrich might have been of royal blood, but to have anyone raising their voice at the king or his retinue was unheard of.

"We are the only remnants of the Imperial bloodline, brother," Victor then replied, sounding a tad irritated. "We must make sure we both have descendants who can carry out the Ritual after our deaths."

The unexplainable wave of anger had surged through Heinrich again.

"I'm not having children only to be forced to leave them behind," he had hissed, a violent note slipping in his tone. He could still remember himself glaring at his brother from behind his glasses and the king staring back with an icy expression. "I'm not having children only to have them murdering each other some ten years after my death!"

And without another word, he had turned on his heels and stormed out of the meeting room.

It was with this memory in mind that Heinrich entered Victor's study, finding his brother waiting with his back turned. Victor had left their father's study almost intact, except for the addition of a large portrait depicting his dearly departed wife. Strangely enough, the man had loved the queen with a quiet, subdued passion even though he showed no affection to his son and barely acknowledged his daughter's existence. Heinrich had a mean-spirited grin at the sight of the painting. Queen Sophia had always been fond of him and she had often confided in him that in reality she abhorred her husband for the way he treated their children. The day she had died, Heinrich had lost a stalwart ally and friend.

Victor cleared his throat, stirring Heinrich out of his reminiscences. "For once, you heeded my order quickly, little brother. I hope it's a sign that you've begun to understand where you should really stand in the order of things." Heinrich translated his brother's thought in his head. _I'm the king. You're not. Know your place. That is, squashed right under my boot. _

"No," Heinrich said placidly, "I just wanted to get this done as quick as possible. You can be annoyingly persistent when you don't get what you want."

There was a slight crease between Victor's eyebrows. "If it amuses you to act like a child, then so be it, but don't expect me to accept more insolence from you. I am already at the end of my wits with you."

Heinrich's mouth formed a perfect 'o' in mock puzzlement. "Are you? What have I done to anger you so much?"

The king scowled. Heinrich was genuinely amazed that he had not yet exploded in one of his famous rages. "You've neglected your duties. Our time is running out and the Ritual will be upon us in only three short years." A corner of his mouth slowly formed a twisted smile. "How long has it been since you've been given the White Chronicle?"

Heinrich swallowed nervously. The White Chronicle. The White Book of Mana. It was the guide that was bestowed to all Sacrifices in order to hone their magical potential and enable their spiritual awakening. Only, Heinrich had yet to become the old tome's true master and thus unlock all of its powers.

Heinrich fought to keep his composure, but Victor's words brought a slew of bad memories to the forefront of his mind. "Oh, I can't remember. Five, six years perhaps?" His tone was pleasant, but there was no way Victor would not see through that idiotic lie. Heinrich remembered that day perfectly. And Victor knew this. He just wanted to twist the knife in the wound as much as he could. As he had done seven years ago when he had stabbed and murdered Heinrich before ripping his soul out of his body to seal it inside that godforsaken White Chronicle.

"Why, then, have you not awakened the Chronicle's powers?" Victor said, that infuriating smirk growing bigger. "I haven't torn my soul in half to keep your miserable carcass alive only to have you neglect the second chance I have given you by wasting your days playing with children and doing who knows what else."

"Well, to be honest with you, brother, I've yet to figure out how to do so..."

It was true – from a certain point of view. Heinrich knew how the preceding Sacrifices had managed to awaken the old book's potential – by deliberately putting themselves in life-threatening situations. He had no idea why doing so made them the true bearers of the Chronicle, but he wasn't so keen on finding out anyway.

"I could arrange something to help you," Victor began in that low-pitched voice he reserved to the moments where he dropped his facade to show his true colours. "If it pleases you, I can always set a couple of the castle guards on you. It would be entertaining to see how you would fare."

Heinrich did not answer. His eyes wandered to the door, and he found himself suddenly unable to stomach the repugnant grin on Victor's face. His heart gave a jolt as he glimpsed a bit of golden hair in the slight gap of the half-open door.

"You have no idea how delighted I would be to assist you," Victor continued, apparently not noticing the boy hiding behind the door, "to finally be able to _teach_ you what happens to those who disregard the duty their king has so graciously given them."

Heinrich looked back at him with wide, almost fearful eyes. Damn Ernst and that curious streak of his. If his father caught him eavesdropping...

"I'll be fine, I'll manage on my own," Heinrich croaked. "I-I should be going now."

"Oh? Are you scared, little brother? Are you going to run as you did all those years ago, like the coward you really are?"

Heinrich turned to scowl at his brother, his fright momentarily forgotten. "I am _not_ a coward."

The king threw his head back laughing. Heinrich could feel his fingernails digging in his palms in shame and outrage; he opened his mouth to retort, but Ernst suddenly erupted into the room, his lovely features distorted by anger.

"Stop it!" the young prince shouted, turning a blind eye to the surprised – and furious – look his father shot him. "Uncle is _not_ a coward!"

"_Ernst_ – " Victor began, his voice dangerously low.

The boy just glared at him harder. "You threatened him! And to be _beaten up _by guards, too?! That's_ sick!_ Why do you always treat him and Eruca so horribly? You have no right to do this!"

Ernst had all but screamed the last sentence, his angry eyes brimming with tears.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent little brat – ?" Victor said in a murmur so full of wrath it raised the hair on Heinrich's arms in fright. The king steered himself toward his son, raising a hand to strike the boy. Ernst seemed too numb with shock to move and there was a sharp feminine cry from behind the door as Victor's hand came down –

– and hit squarely Heinrich in the face. Had it not hurt so much, Heinrich would have been amused by the startled – and downright unflattering – expression sported by his brother.

A tense silence followed and Heinrich could hear Eruca choking a sob from behind.

"What do you think you're doing, _brother?_" Victor rasped as he towered over the much smaller and skinnier Heinrich.

Heinrich rubbed his weary cheek and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Getting hit by you, it seems." The king flared his teeth in warning, but unruffled by the unsaid threat, Heinrich continued in a mockingly sweet tone. "Please let me leave, dearest brother. I was helping your son and daughter with their lesson, after all. Interfering with your children's education is counterproductive, is it not?" Then, under his breath, he added without much enthusiasm. "Beside, you will be able to have your revenge on me very shortly. So you might want to save your anger for this moment. For your own amusement and such."

The corners of Victor's mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk. "Oh, I'll _savour_ that moment plenty," the king whispered, his face only inches away. A shudder went through Heinrich's spine, but he stubbornly kept staring into the king's blue eyes out of sheer spite.

"Ernst, let's go," Heinrich finally said, gently pushing the boy out of his father's study. In the corridor, the two of them met up with Eruca – the poor girl was standing stiffly in silent shock. The king had never been exceptionally apt at dealing with his chronic bouts of rage, but his fury had never resulted in an attempt at physical violence before. Heinrich did not want to dwell on the reasons that could have driven his brother to cross this particular line.

"What was this all about?" Ernst eventually said. "Did he... really mean what he said?"

Heinrich did not answer; for once, he had no comforting words or explanation to offer his nephew.

* * *

_**Author's notes**__: Welllll, there's nothing much happening here, but I have to introduce the main characters somehow. Since we almost have nothing on this particular era in the games, I had to go with my own interpretation most of the time – if you have ideas or criticisms or whatever, I'm always willing to hear you out; discussing characters in an almost OCD manner is always so much fun... wait, this came out more creepily than I intended..._


	3. Chapter 2 - The Language of Flowers

_- Chapter 2 -_

The Language of Flowers

* * *

_Heinrich found the Royal Hall to be strangely beautiful. _

_The boy had a slight spring in his steps as he entered the labyrinthine ruins carved in the rocky underbelly of Castle Granorg, stopping only to give an occasional glance to his father, who was limping off behind. The architecture here was nothing like the other parts of the castle. Heinrich voiced his thought aloud and the old king explained that the catacombs dated from the Empire's golden days. As father and son continued to advance through the ruins, Heinrich's eyes darted everywhere, the boy finding himself completely fascinated by the otherworldly beauty of his surroundings. No torches illuminated the great spaces of the Hall; instead, strange mechanical devices used crystallized Mana to diffuse a greenish glow to dispel the darkness. Heinrich could also see the remnants of a few stone columns in the greenish light cast by the crystals, the once great pillars now mostly rubble covered by a thick layer of moss. The walls had been embellished with some engravings, but time had all but erased the work of the Imperial artisans. For some reason, this particularly saddened Heinrich. If rock could not stand the passing of the ages, why would the life of only one man be remembered by future generations?_

_They finally arrived at a damp, dimly-lit cave where several crystals of pure Mana shone brightly, scattering bits of violet light everywhere. Heinrich managed to tear his gaze away from the scenery, his eyes now discerning the large form of a man in the gloom. Instantly, his awe melted away. He gave a startled cry, taking a few steps backward, only to be stopped by two men in armour who grabbed him firmly by the arms._

"_Father!" Heinrich screamed, and suddenly his voice was not a child's one but rather a young man's, "I can't do it! Don't make me do it!"_

_The king held his son's hand, apologizing over and over again while tears streamed from his cheeks into his long unkempt beard. Heinrich clasped his father's bony fingers, looking back at him with wild, fearful eyes. The old man seemed unaware of Heinrich's distress; the name he kept repeating was his younger brother's, not his son's._

_The man who stood at the centre of the cave marched solemnly toward Heinrich and a bit of violet light fell upon him, finally showing his features. In one hand Victor held the Black Chronicle, the counterpart of the White Chronicle that was given to the one who would cast the necessary spells for the Ritual. In the other, there was a dagger shining in the darkness._

"_No!" Heinrich tried to break away from the guards' grasp. "Please, no!"_

"_Each of us has a duty to accomplish for the sake of the world, remember?" Victor's lips were pressed together in a stern line but his eyes were squinted in a vicious smile. "I shall fulfil mine as king; it's time for you to perform yours as well."_

_Heinrich managed to glare at his brother with a defiant fearfulness._

"_It should have been you," he replied weakly before finally summoning all of his courage to scream those words again, "it should have been you!" _

_The dagger twirled in Victor's hand. "But you're the one who's been chosen." And without further warning, he thrust the blade into Heinrich's stomach._

* * *

Heinrich gasped suddenly. His eyes squeezed shut, he let out a groan, his hand curling in a fist. After a few moments where he just lay still in a hazy state of distress and confusion, he finally opened his eyes, his crazed heartbeat gently slowing down as he started to realize that he was only resting in his bed.

He spent several long seconds staring at the bed canopy, struggling to erase from his mind the images brought by his nightmare, as he always did whenever he dreamed of this particular event. The day where he had been killed then resurrected by his brother had been the subject of many nightmares, although this one had been fairly tame compared to some others. Once, he had woken up screaming and thrashing in his bed, and the servants who had come rushing into his chambers had to hold him down to keep him from harming himself. From what he had understood from their frightened testimonial, they had found him clawing at his face and shrieking "_get it out of me, get it out of me!_" He still had a pale, silvery mark over his eyebrow from where his fingernails had pierced the skin.

Heinrich sighed and his hand unconsciously came to rest on his stomach, his fingers tracing the long scar from over the fabric of his nightshirt. Usually the Sacrifices were killed using far less barbaric methods, but Victor had been unwilling to follow tradition on that part. Heinrich guessed it could have been a childish and convoluted way to spite their father, who had died a few months prior to Heinrich's first death and subsequent resurrection. On his deathbed, the old king had highly criticized his eldest son before revealing – in a weak voice so unlike the booming one Heinrich had always associated with the man – a secret wish that his youngest child had been born first. Victor had gone very still at this admission; he had then watched their father draw his last breath with an expression that still chilled Heinrich to this day.

The sun was already up high in the sky when Heinrich finally decided to leave the comfort of his soft linen sheets. He moved to sit at the edge of his bed, pausing to gaze significantly at his desk, where the White Chronicle was hidden in a secret drawer he had built seven years ago. Sighing, he finally staggered towards his wardrobe, only to stop when something small and red and _loud_ barrelled into his room.

"Uncle! _Uncle!_" Ernst cried out, as he ran towards Heinrich, "good morning! How are you today?"

Heinrich winced as Ernst looked at him with suspiciously starry eyes and a grin too broad to be trustworthy.

"What on earth did they put in your breakfast this morning, my boy?" Heinrich said as he massaged his temple, peering down at Ernst with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. Ernst huffed and put his hands on his hips.

"Wait... don't tell me you _forgot!_" he said indignantly. "Today is the beginning of the Midsummer Festival! You said you would go with me! You promised!"

Heinrich groaned and cursed softly under his breath; the Midsummer Festival had all but slipped his mind. Since the death of Queen Sophia four years ago, he had started smuggling his nephew out of the castle whenever the boy seemed in low spirits. Ernst had grown especially fond of walking the capital's streets when the Midsummer Festival was in full swing.

"And you said Ruca could go this year too," Ernst said, his finger pointing to the door where Eruca stood half-hidden, watching the exchange with wide blue eyes. She shifted from her spot and tottered toward Heinrich and Ernst, her brows knitted in a shy and unhappy frown.

Heinrich sighed and passed his hand through his hair. "I don't feel so well," he said, making no note of Ernst's dejected expression. "I'm sorry, my boy. Maybe next year..."

Ernst bit his lip. "You've been cooped up inside for almost a month now! You stopped coming down to dinner, you don't want to read or spar with us anymore... you didn't even think of taking care of your garden! If we hadn't ask old man Gedeon to do it for you, it would have just dried up and died! It's a bit worrying, you know..."

"Are you sick?" Eruca added in a wavering voice. "Are you going to die like Mother?"

"What? Of course not!"

_(Just wait two or three years for that, my dear.) _

Heinrich inwardly cringed. His subconscious had been quite the pessimist lately. His best explanation was that it acted that way in response to Victor's not so subtle threats of sending someone to _'_assist_'_ him in awakening the White Chronicle's powers. He was still a bit surprised he had not yet glimpsed the flicker of a blade in some dark corner of his bedchambers whenever he went to sleep.

"Uncle, please, come with us! It'll cheer you up, too..." Ernst said softly as they both gazed at him, their big, shining eyes pleading him silently.

Heinrich buried his face in his hands, knowing fully that the last bit of resistance inside him had all but crumbled the moment they had looked at him like that. He was already incapable of refusing Ernst anything whenever the boy used this ruthless tactic and together, they were an even more implacable force, one that could chip away the strongest of all resolves.

"Fine, fine, we'll go," he said, ignoring the bizarre sentiment fluttering somewhere in his chest as their faces broke into big smiles.

"That's great! Thanks, Uncle, you're the best!" Ernst said, launching himself at his uncle for a quick hug. Heinrich flinched and awkwardly patted the child on the head, giving a sigh of relief as Ernst let go of him.

"Let's go, Ruca, we should give him some time to get prepared." Eruca gave a small nod in agreement. "Should we meet you at our usual spot, then?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Heinrich mumbled back, a bit of red creeping up his cheeks.

"Alright! See you later!"

Heinrich watched the children darting out of his bedchambers like two tiny whirlwinds, a simple smile slowly emerging on his features. He doubted Victor could send his minions after him if he happened to be out of the castle all day, now could he?

* * *

Heinrich met with Ernst and Eruca in the courtyard in front of the gate, the two children hidden in a darkened alcove he and Ernst had always used as a meeting point whenever they sneaked outside of the castle. A green cap was planted on Ernst's golden head, bringing out the colour of his eyes. He was also wearing a dirty, worn-out sweater, the dullness of his outfit however disrupted by the addition of a bright red scarf. Eruca had arranged her hair in two plaits and, to Heinrich's surprise, she had put on with her plain white shirt an ill-fitting pair of pants held by suspenders. He raised an eyebrow at her attire and she looked at the ground meekly.

"We didn't have anything for her to wear, so I asked Lady Beth to lend us some of her son's old clothes," Ernst answered Heinrich's silent question. Beth was the children's nanny; she had also watched over Heinrich and his brother in their youth and he was still rather fond of her for this reason. "I've asked her to cover for us too. Last thing we need is for Father to come snooping in our business, right?"

Eruca still seemed quite uncomfortable with her current outfit. "Is it alright for me to put on something like this? Do the commoner girls even wear pants? Father always said that – "

"It's alright, child," Heinrich said, rolling his eyes, "some girls do wear pants instead of skirts." With a grimace, he added, "and your father won't even get to see what you are wearing today, Eruca. You don't have to be so frightened of him all the time!"

He sighed, his gaze growing softer as he leaned toward them. "Today, let's all just forget about your father. Today, we are not members of the royal family of Granorg. Just a pair of children and their uncle enjoying the festival like everyone else."

"Okay," Eruca answered in a soft mutter. She began to fiddle with one of her braids. "But won't the people in the city recognize you or Ernst?"

"I already told you, Ruca. That's why we're dressed like this. We look just like any other commoners now!"

Heinrich let out a little snort at his nephew's reply. There was no way that Ernst, with his ivory white skin and chubby red cheeks, could be mistaken for a lowborn child. And Eruca had an aristocratic air about herself. She was too courteous, too well-mannered to be anything but a nobleman's daughter. Only Heinrich could somehow pass for a commoner. Indeed, in all of his trips to the city, nobody had ever realized that the fidgety, long-nosed youth walking discreetly through the crowds also happened to be the king's reclusive brother. Heinrich's mood darkened. As a matter of fact, he doubted the common people even cared to know that the king had a younger brother.

"And if we get robbed or something, then Uncle will just have to set them on fire with a spell."

Eruca stared at her brother, her eyes wide with pure horror.

Heinrich groaned as Ernst began to laugh. "Don't listen to your brother, Eruca. I don't really set people on fire." He exchanged a quick glance with Ernst. "That is, unless they really deserve it."

Eruca appeared even more disturbed and Heinrich and Ernst shared a grin she did not seem to appreciate.

"You're making fun of me again, are you?" she said, pouting.

Ernst gave her an affectionate pat on the head. "Absolutely. Beside, nothing will happen, Ruca. Uncle and I did this a thousand times before and nobody ever noticed us. We should really get going, anyway, or we'll miss all the best stuff." Ernst suddenly grasped Heinrich's hand and it took all of his willpower not to react badly at the touch. "Ruca, take Uncle's hand!"

The girl's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Why...?" she said weakly, and Heinrich could see that her eyes mirrored his own distaste at the idea.

"Just do it," Ernst said with a lop-sided grin, "if you do that, then we can all get out of the castle without anybody noticing us."

"Really?"

"Trust me!"

Eruca seemed to consider this for a moment, but then her tiny fingers wrapped themselves around Heinrich's hand.

"Great! Uncle, whenever you're ready!"

Heinrich scanned their surroundings, carefully noting the location of every guard in the courtyard and on the castle walls. The small alcove usually hid them from all prying eyes, but he was never one to take chances; there would be hell to pay if word got to his brother of the little trip they were planning.

It seemed none of the guardsmen had managed to catch sight of them. Closing his eyes, Heinrich inhaled slowly, focusing his attention of the flow of magic that existed naturally within his being. The flux of Mana inside him instantly responded to his call. He soon sensed a prickling all over his skin, feeling the hair on his arms standing as though he had received a slight electric shock.

Satisfied, he opened his eyes. "Alright, let's go," he whispered to the children. "Walk slowly and try not to talk, please."

The three of them began their trek toward the castle gate and Heinrich noted with some amusement that Eruca looked as clueless as ever. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Ernst was apparently suppressing a desire to laugh.

Luck was on their side today and only a pair of guards guarded both ends of the gate. Heinrich and the children passed brazenly in front of them and neither seemed to notice that the king's younger brother was taking the prince and the princess out to the city without their father's approval. Eruca's eyes grew round as coins and she gaped at the two knights over her shoulders as they traversed the drawbridge.

Heinrich brought the children to a small alleyway not far from the drawbridge and with a long, painful exhalation, he finally released their hands. As he clumsily loosened his cravat and collar to regain his breath, he could see Eruca staring at him, her mouth opening and closing in quick succession.

"What just happened?" she asked in a tiny voice, completely baffled. Ernst burst in laughter.

"That, Ruca, was Uncle's very own Vanish spell! Neat, isn't it?"

Heinrich gave a great gasp. "It's not... _my_ Vanish spell... I just learned it... from a book..."

Eruca still appeared at a complete loss. "How did you...?"

"I don't really know... how it works," Heinrich explained as he felt his breathing slowing down, "but as you can see, it's quite a pain to use since it drains Mana rather quickly. In fact, I think it needs an amount of Mana I don't think anyone but a member of our family could gather."

The two children tilted their heads in puzzlement. "Mana?"

Heinrich grimaced as he tried to find the words to express such a concept. "It's the magical energy contained in every being in the world." He winced, leaning on the wall to fight back a bout of dizziness. "I believe it anchors our souls to our bodies, but we will never know for sure since most of our knowledge about the subject was lost when the old Empire fell."

He adjusted his cravat while the children continued to watch him with obvious curiosity. "The people of our bloodline are naturally stronger in magic than all of the other humans on the continent. I don't think anyone – save perhaps a few Beastkind – can amass as much Mana as we do," he finished, his voice carrying a bitter note. He could not help but scowl as he mulled over these words. _In fact, children, it's one of the reasons why I will be a dead man in three short years_. _Amusing, is it not?_

A thick silence hung in the air as a shadow lingered in Heinrich's eyes.

"Right, then," Ernst began, looking at his uncle with a slight frown, "let's get going before we all grow roots here. Where should we go first?"

Ernst's question snapped Heinrich out of his reverie. He opened his mouth to suggest something, but then his eyes wandered to Eruca; the girl was holding her stomach with a strangely miserable expression.

"Eruca? What's wrong? Are you hungry?" She gave a tiny nod and Ernst smiled sheepishly. Heinrich could not help but groan again.

"Sorry, we skipped breakfast. I guess it just slipped our mind because we were too excited." Ernst chuckled nervously. "Can we stop at the bakery over there to get something?"

"Of course," Heinrich replied, a corner of his mouth reluctantly going upward in a half-smile, "go on, I'll rest here for a bit." The spell had drained more of his energy than he would have thought. "Although, I don't have that much money on me today. I'll give you twelve coins each, but please, nephew, don't blow it all off on sweets this year too, all right?"

* * *

"Oh, come on, Uncle!" Ernst said as he rummaged in his bag for a cookie, "stop being so moody! That lady was pretty nice to give us a discount since we were buying so many. We've saved, um, what, four coins?"

"That's a bargain," Eruca chimed in as she nibbled on her own cookie "...isn't it?"

Heinrich growled in response as they made their way through the thick crowd, roughly shoving in his mouth a bit of bread.

"I wouldn't call it a bargain when you've wasted most of the money I gave you on those cookies," Heinrich said. "I should have known that I could not trust you."

"At least we'll have enough food to last for the day!"

Heinrich's eyes narrowed as he stared at his nephew in silent disdain. The boy replied with such a dumb grin that Heinrich found himself answering with a smile of his own in spite of himself.

"You're quite the brat, you know that, nephew?" Heinrich said, barely masking the fondness that coloured his voice. "And here I am, trying to make sure you'll grow up to be the perfect gentleman..."

Ernst had the eyes of a wounded puppy. "That's pretty nasty, calling your only nephew a brat. Are you really so keen on destroying what little self-esteem I still have?" And he stuffed his face with yet another cookie.

The rest of the day went at least fairly well. The children abounded with energy, making up for his own lack of liveliness. As always, Ernst was happy to interact with the people of the city. He complemented the artisans on their craft, haggled (or rather _attempted_ to haggle) with the merchants on the prices of their wares and questioned the farmers on the state of their crops, the commoners all charmed by his outgoing smile and the inquisitive spark that lit up his eyes. Heinrich had however become a bit apprehensive at what the peasants told Ernst; it seemed the harvest was shaping up to be particularly disastrous this year. A drought had already struck the easterly parts of the kingdom last summer and the resulting food shortage still held most of the kingdom in a tenacious grip. Perhaps it was only caused by the whims of Mother Nature, but the gloomiest part of his psyche suspected it could be some freakish resurgence of the desertification process that technically should have been stopped with his uncle's sacrifice seven years ago.

The children also dragged him along a number of attractions, including an archery contest that Eruca watched with great interest and the show of a travelling troupe of musicians and dancers. Heinrich had not been very impressed with the band's performance. As they walked away, he explained to Ernst that a group of Celestian artists he had seen as a teenager had been much more memorable. To Heinrich's amusement, Ernst had then became red with jealousy.

"You've seen a Satyros troupe!" the boy said huffily as Heinrich tried to hide his grin, "you're so lucky! I wish I could at least meet some Beastkind, or even visit Celestia. They live in villages hidden inside the forest, right? That's pretty interesting, it must be so much better than living in a stuffy castle."

"Most of them also hate humans with a passion," Heinrich responded, his smile gone. "The Alistellians have been giving them trouble for quite a while now. They don't even allow us inside their borders anymore."

Ernst sighed. "Why does everybody have to fight? If we were at peace, then I could go visit the Satyros in Celestia and even the Gutrals in Forgia, and they could come here in Granorg."

Heinrich had nothing to say to this. Once again, dark thoughts filled his head. After his death, where would the world go? Would the people of Vainqueur put down their weapons and fulfil Ernst's naive wish? Or would the continent be engulfed in war yet again as the silent slaughter of his family in that godforsaken Ritual went on unopposed?

"Oh! Ernst, Uncle, look at the flowers! They're so pretty!" Eruca cried out.

Heinrich blinked, his eyes following the direction where his niece was pointing. Strangely enough, he could recall vaguely the brightly painted sign of the shop and the old man tending to his flowers. Although the street was busy with festival goers, there was currently no customer, leaving the shopkeeper to smoke his pipe undisturbed.

"Hey!" Ernst said, "isn't that the flower shop we go to each year? The one where the guy likes you so much he's almost ready to take you as a part-timer? You'd do very good, I think."

Heinrich raised an eyebrow. "You would really want to unleash me on some poor unsuspecting customers? I never thought you to be so cruel."

Eruca tugged at her uncle's sleeves. "Can we stop to buy some?" she asked. "We could get something for Lady Beth, wouldn't that be nice?"

"That's a great idea!"

"We could, but we don't have that much money left. I wonder why..."

"We get it, Uncle, it was a bad idea. You don't need to throw that in our faces again," Ernst replied sullenly.

Heinrich kept a haughty silence and hid his hands in his pockets, heading for the flower shop with the children dutifully following him.

"Hello there, my good man!" the shopkeeper began pleasantly, putting his pipe aside. "What can I do for you today?"

"The children want something for their nanny. Do you have something we could buy for, um," Heinrich searched his pockets and counted the money he found, laughing nervously as he realized how little he had left, "for, um, seven coins?"

"Just give me a moment, sir, I'll find you something right away!"

"What about those?" Ernst said, gesturing toward a large bouquet of bright red flowers. Heinrich turned to the shopkeeper in astonishment.

"You have some stockes even at this time of the year?" he said, observing the flowers with a knowing eye. "They usually bloom much later, don't they?"

The old man barked a laugh. "They do, but these ones weren't the patient kind, it seems!" He peered closely at Heinrich's face, his face lightening up in recognition. "Why! You're the young fella who comes to my shop every year, aren't you? You and your little lad!" He gave a brief salute to Ernst who tipped his cap in response. "And you've brought your daughter this year too! What an adorable little miss!"

Heinrich realized his cheeks were slightly pinkening. "They're not my children," he said, perhaps a bit too brusquely, "I'm just their uncle, nothing more."

"Is that so?" the shopkeeper said before chuckling once more. "You don't have to be so flustered about this, son. I'm just a noisy old man who can't keep to his own business, don't mind me!"

"Mister, how much for the red stockes?" Ernst asked again. He watched Heinrich with a questioning expression. "I remember you saying you like stockes a lot, don't you, Uncle Heinrich?"

"Why?" Eruca said puzzlingly. "What's so special about them?"

Heinrich crossed his arms, letting out a long '_hmm_' before answering. "Nothing in particular, in fact. People usually appreciate their smell and how easy they are to grow." Heinrich felt his embarrassment growing as they turned to stare at him as though they expected him to continue. "And you shouldn't use stockes to express gratitude. Bluebells would be more suiting, I think."

"What's the meaning of stockes then?"

"Depend on the colour. White stockes signify compassion, while yellow ones are associated with lonely love. Red stockes in particular are my favourite, because they mean – " Heinrich stopped himself, suddenly realizing that he sounded like the worst of sappy idiots. His cheeks turned scarlet.

"Oh, Uncle Heinrich, you do have a romantic side!" Eruca sighed. Heinrich was surprised that Ernst had not yet started to snicker at this disgusting sentimental display.

"Here, I still had a couple of bluebells in the back," the shopkeeper said, handing the violet-blue flowers to Ernst. Heinrich silently thanked the man for his impeccable timing.

"If you add the stockes, how much would it be?" Ernst asked the shopkeeper.

"It'd be a bit more expensive than what you have, but I can make you a price," the shopkeeper replied. "After all, you two have been a faithful customer for many years. Take it as a gift from one lover of flowers to another."

Heinrich was rather puzzled. "Why would you do that, nephew? For whom – ?"

"For you, idiot!" Ernst said with a roll of the eyes, "we need to thank you for taking us out to the Festival! Right, Ruca?"

"But, Ernst..."

"No buts! Sheesh, it's just flowers, stop making such a fuss about it." There was a slight flush to Ernst's cheeks too.

Smiling awkwardly, Heinrich paid the shopkeeper and took the other bouquet from his hands. Afterwards, they left the shop, the children giving the old man a cheerful goodbye while Heinrich gingerly waved his hand.

"So, where should we go now?" Eruca asked as they lost themselves into the crowd again. Heinrich glanced upward, realizing that the sky had turned a pretty shade of orange. A dull ache had also begun to assault his legs and feet.

"We should rest a bit before going back to the castle," Heinrich said, "we have a long trip ahead of us after all."

"We can sit near this fountain," Ernst suggested, "look, there's no one."

Indeed, there was a beautifully decorated fountain not far away. In three strides they reached the fountain's rim and Heinrich and Ernst plopped down on the cold marble, both of them yawning loudly. Nearby, an old man was throwing some bread crumbs at pigeons. Eruca looked at him with both puzzlement and wonder. It suddenly struck Heinrich that the girl, having never set foot outside the castle, had never seen a sight as mundane as someone feeding stray birds.

"Um, Uncle, can I give the birds some cookie crumbles too?" she asked, hopping daintily from foot to foot.

"Of course you can. Just stay within sight of me, alright?"

"I will! Thank you, Uncle Heinrich!"

Eruca sauntered toward the old man and his birds, leaving Heinrich and Ernst to sit alone at the fountain.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Ernst said, watching his sister throw some pieces of cookie at the pigeons with distracted eyes, "every time we sneak out to the city, people always think we're father and son."

Heinrich gave a noncommittal shrug. "Of course. Children are usually accompanied by their parents. It's a logical assumption."

A graceless snort came out of Ernst's nose. "_Hah!_ Can you see Father going out to the Midsummer Festival with us like that?" His tone was unusually bitter.

The mention of his brother dampened Heinrich's mood and he sighed as he contemplated the bouquet of red stockes in his hands. The memory of Victor and his knife flashed in front of his eyes and he could almost feel the old scar twinging in remembered pain. The two were silent for a few seconds before Ernst spoke up again.

"At least, you're there. It's much more better being with you than being with _him_." The amount of venom he had put into that last word was staggering. Ernst paused, his frown gradually dissipating, gently replaced by a smile he directed toward Heinrich. "Really, I'm happy we've got you."

Heinrich's cheeks began to heat up yet again and he fidgeted on his seat, his eyes briskly evading the boy's gaze. He prayed fervently that Ernst would just stop there with the mushy compliments.

"It really is your favourite flower, isn't it?" Ernst eventually said, possibly noticing his uncle's uneasiness.

"Maybe, I can't really say," Heinrich answered, secretly relieved (although he was still wondering why it was so important for Ernst to know what his favourite flower was). "Actually, I'm fairly fond of lilies. And hydrangeas and primroses, too." A wave of melancholy swept over him as a half-remembered thought came to him. "In fact, if I had a daughter, I would have probably named her Primrose."

Ernst stayed quiet at this admission. "If you ever have a son, what would you call him?"

Heinrich glanced down at his nephew, finding the boy staring back. Ernst's expression was unreadable. There was something in his eyes – a bit of sadness or anxiety perhaps, mixed with a touch of longing?

"I've never put much thought in that question, to be honest. Perhaps I would have named him Stocke," Heinrich replied with a bemused smile, still searching his nephew's features for a clue explaining his peculiar behaviour. "But that's neither here nor there. I already know I will never have children."

Heinrich observed the boy's reaction. As Ernst still looked a bit forlorn, he added, tongue firmly planted in cheek, "really, why would I? Being a parent seems quite troublesome. Truly, I can't see why anyone would want to have children : they waste all of your money on cookies, cheat when you spar with them, jump in your bed at ungodly hours in the morning – "

"Hey! I've never done that!"

"Yes, you did, when you were six. It was your birthday and – "

"That doesn't count! I was just a kid!"

"But you _still_ are a – " Heinrich began, only to stop abruptly as he gazed to where Eruca was. Or rather, gazed to where Eruca _should have been_.

"Oh, god!" Heinrich cried out as he jumped to his feet. "_Eruca! Where is she?!_"

"Wha – ? She's gone!" Ernst jolted from his seat. "She was here just a moment ago!"

Heinrich rushed into the swarm of people that surrounded the fountain, closely followed by Ernst. To his great relief, his eyes soon caught a flash of gold not far away. Near one of the walls that encircled the city, there was a pig-tailed girl talking to a dirty-looking man wearing a cloak.

"_Eruca!_" Heinrich shouted as he ran toward his niece, cutting through the crowd. She turned to face him and immediately her expression grew fearful as he grabbed her forcefully by the arm.

"I told you to stay nearby, Eruca! We could have easily lost you! You can't just go wandering around! Someone could have tried to hurt you!" A couple of bystanders watched them warily as his voice grew louder and louder.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Heinrich," Eruca said, tears welling up in her eyes, "but this mister here, he asked if I had some money and then he said he was hungry and – " she quickly fell silent as Heinrich felt his face heat up in anger.

"Please, forgive your little niece, sir, she just wanted to help me," the beggar said feebly. Heinrich glared daggers at the man before swiftly turning around as he heard the sound of someone rummaging through a bag.

"I'm sorry, sir," Ernst began, "I don't have anything but cookies, but – "

"Ernst!" Heinrich glowered at his nephew. "Don't come near him! He's filthy! Who knows how many diseases he might have?" With a hard set to his jaw, he thrust the red stockes in Ernst's arms, seizing his hand while still clutching Eruca behind him. "Let's go back. Night will fall soon."

The two children meekly followed him as he led them through the streets. As they arrived downtown, Ernst swallowed nervously.

"What was wrong with that man? He seemed sick or something..."

Eruca also contemplated her uncle with inquisitive eyes.

"He told me he didn't have a home. How can someone not have a home?"

Heinrich's scowl grew meaner. "Who knows? He might be some idiot who squandered all of his money or a deserter fleeing from the law or even a thief lying to you in order to trick you. Perhaps he was a refugee or – "

"A refugee?" Ernst asked, "what's a refugee?"

Heinrich tutted loudly. "Someone who lost their home because of the war. They are a lot of them camping outside the city walls, waiting for an authorization to enter the capital."

"Why can't they – ?"

"I don't want to talk about this," Heinrich said bluntly, "I'm tired. If you want to, you can ask me later, but not now." His mind kept replaying the previous events in an horrific loop.

When they reached the castle gate, the sky was already painted a deep blue and there was a certain chill in the air. Still holding Ernst and Eruca by the hands, Heinrich closed his eyes, trying to pick the thin thread of Mana that flowed deep inside him. It was completely useless; every time he managed to pluck that tiny string of Mana, it just escaped his grasp again.

He cursed under his breath. "I can't cast my Vanish spell," he told the children curtly. "We will have to find another way inside the castle."

Ernst and Eruca exchanged worried gazes. "There are some secret passages that lead inside, right?" Ernst said. "Do you know where they might be?"

Heinrich gave a heavy sigh and pushed his glasses up his nose. "As a matter of fact, I do. Although, I do hope you don't mind a trip through the sewers of the city."

As troubled as he still was, he could not help but find the look of pure horror they gave him deliciously entertaining.

* * *

An hour later, after trudging through the tortuous maze of the sewers and braving the stench and the filth, they ended safely within the castle walls. The three of them managed to get to Eruca's chambers without anyone noticing, and Heinrich put his niece – who was already dozing off in his arms – to bed. When they arrived to Ernst's room, the boy insisted that he did not feel tired at all. Heinrich snorted. After the initial excitement of passing through one of the castle's secret passages for the first time had worn off, Ernst had looked like he would fall asleep on the spot at any moment.

"I don't wanna go to bed," Ernst protested as he handed the stockes and bluebells to Heinrich, "I'm older than Ruca, I should go to bed, after she does," and he punctuated that last word with a long yawn.

Heinrich sensed his fingers twitch as he felt the sudden desire to ruffle his nephew's golden hair. Instead, he only glanced down at the boy with a soft half-smile. "This is already well over your bedtime, young man," the older of the two princes said, "if your father knew I took the two of you out of the castle at this hour, he would have my head."

"Mm, if you say so... g'night, Uncle."

"Good night, my boy," Heinrich answered, turning away from his nephew to leave for his own chambers.

From behind, Heinrich heard soft footfalls and the flutter of a cape. He stopped in his tracks.

"Ernst...?" Heinrich began, shifting on his heels to face the boy.

At the other end of the corridor, a few steps away from Ernst, he could see a cloaked figure standing still, blade in hand. Heinrich felt his eyes slowly widening.

There was a weak, strangled cry of surprise from Ernst... and then the stranger dashed toward the two of them.

"_Ernst!_" Heinrich shouted as the knife slowly rose above Ernst's startled face, its blade gleaming red in the light of the flickering torches.

* * *

_Author's note: Well, that ended up longer than I would have wanted. Eeep. If you have ideas/criticisms, feel free to give them! I'd be happy to hear what you have to say!_


	4. Chapter 3 - The Vow

_- Chapter 3 -_

The Vow

* * *

"_ERNST!_"

The boy turned to run toward his uncle, raising a hand in a futile attempt to reach him, but the stranger grabbed him, stopping him in his tracks. Ernst let out a helpless yelp, and the cloaked man clutched the boy's arm so tightly his fingers let red marks against the white skin. Heinrich could glimpse the knife hovering near his nephew's neck.

"The king," the stranger breathed, "the king, take me to the king." The voice was uneven, touched with a worrying note of hysteria.

"U-Uncle," Ernst whimpered.

"Oh, god," Heinrich croaked, feeling like he had been suddenly doused in ice-cold water, "please, don't..." He took an unsteady step forward and opened his mouth to say more, but the words seemed to stay stuck in his throat. The fingers that held the bouquets of stockes and bluebells slowly loosened and the flowers fell from his grasp, hitting the ground in a scatter of red and blue.

"_The king,_" the stranger repeated in a hiss that made Heinrich's skin crawl.

"I-I'll take you to him," he said, nearly choking on the lump that had settled in his throat, "just, don't hurt the boy, please – !"

With one last, wary look at the man, Heinrich began to walk in the direction of his brother's chambers, quietly shadowed by the cloaked figure. The silence was occasionally broken by Ernst's soft sobs and it took all of Heinrich's willpower not to strike the one responsible for these tears.

They soon reached the throne room where they stumbled upon a soldier who ran as quickly as he could to fetch the king. Heinrich's brother returned a short moment later, followed by an entire unit of knights.

"The king..." the stranger said, and the knife pressed against Ernst's skin, drawing blood. The boy let out a small whine, his terrified eyes never leaving his uncle.

Victor's anger was something to behold. "What is the meaning of this?" he thundered, his voice reverberating in the vast throne room. "How _dare_ you threaten the crown prince?"

"If that's the only way I'll get you listening to me, then I'm ready to slaughter your entire family," the cloaked man muttered darkly.

"Then, speak! But don't think you'll get away with this!" the king shot back, wiping the sweat from his brow with a swat of the hand.

The cloaked man removed his hood, revealing a rather average looking middle-age man who seemed eerily familiar to Heinrich. "I'm here to speak on behalf of all of the Granorgite people," he said, and Heinrich could hear that slightly insane note in his voice again, "the people you've left to starve and suffer and die – !"

Tears were now coming out of his eyes. "My village – my village was attacked by Alistellian raiders! They set everything to the torch and so many – so many of us were killed! And – and we came to the capital, to ask asylum. But the – the guards kept us out of the city. _You've left us to starve outside the city walls!_"

The king glowered from beneath his thick eyebrows. "Of course, we closed the gates to you, you idiot peasant." He approached the man and there was a menacing gait to his steps. "Do you think we have the resources to allow just anyone into the city? The food shortage affect _everyone_ in the kingdom. Do you have any idea of how long we would last if I open the city to you and the rest of your pesky rabble?"

The man began to sob heavily and it struck Heinrich that he appeared completely oblivious to the king's words. The hand holding the knife began to shake. "But there _are_ hundreds of us! My son... oh, he was just a boy, and he caught a fever, and then – _ooowww, why, you little shit!_"

The stranger's story came to an abrupt end and Heinrich saw that Ernst had suddenly bit his captor's hand. The boy broke free from the man's grasp, while the latter shouted obscenities from behind.

"_Ernst!_" Heinrich screeched as he ran toward his nephew, but he was roughly pushed out of the way by a guard rushing to the boy's side. He fell to the floor, his head colliding violently with the ground. Somewhere in the distance a high-pitched scream echoed.

"Don't let him go!" a voice said. "Kill him, _kill him_!"

Heinrich's head was heavy and painful, and he tried to get to his feet, only to fall to his knees again in the process. He could only see blurry shapes and his ears were ringing loudly, so loudly in fact that he could barely make out the words of the shouts that assaulted his eardrums.

"Oh, god!" another voice cried out, "he's bleeding! The prince is injured!"

_What did he just say?_ Heinrich thought, his heart nearly stopping in shock. To his right, he recognized his brother's voice bellowing an order, and he caught sight of what seemed like a group of guards running in the direction where the king was pointing. To his left, a couple of knights were huddled up around something lying on the ground. _No... it couldn't be..._

"Don't move him! We must wait for the healers!"

"_Hurry!_ He's losing blood very fast!"

Heinrich staggered toward the group of panicking guards, seeing over their shoulders the child's small, still figure. There was a dark, rapidly growing stain on his sweater and next to him, a bloodied knife lay on the ground.

"_My son!_" Victor's voice suddenly flared next to Heinrich's ear and he saw the guards fearfully make way for the king to approach the boy. "_Where are the healers? Where are they?!_"

A few mages mercifully arrived in the throne room as the king shouted these words and Heinrich was bluntly relegated to the sidelines as they fluttered to Ernst's motionless form.

"Give me something to stop the bleeding, quickly!" their leader commanded, his shining hands resting on Ernst's bloodied back as he tried to seal the open wound with a healing spell.

"T-the knife must have punctured an artery," a young healer said as she gave her superior a couple of bandages, "he's lost so much blood already!"

Heinrich felt like his feet were rooted in the ground. He was aware that he mouth had opened, almost as if he wanted to say something, but his throat was so parched it could not make a sound. And for some unknown reason his brain was still doubting the information sent by his eyes and ears. Not long ago, the boy had been whining about bedtime, how could he be lying in his own blood at the moment? It made absolutely no sense.

The head medic seemed more and more frantic. "It's not use... w-we're losing him..."

Heinrich could feel his fingernails digging in his palms. His head was disturbingly blank.

A few excruciatingly slow minutes passed. Finally, the head medic let out a soft, choking sound.

"I-I can't feel his pulse anymore," he said in a rattled voice. His subordinates only looked at the young prince with vacant expressions. Heinrich did the same, a heavy, invisible weight slowly settling on his shoulders.

"_What did you say?_" Victor's guttural voice erupted, and suddenly he was looming over the head medic. The man met the king's gaze with terrified eyes. "_Did you just say that my son is dead?"_

"Your Majesty – !" the head medic began in a panic-stricken whisper, only to be cut off as the king's hand came down to strike him. There was a sound of distress from his colleagues as the man fell like a stone.

Heinrich only stared with hollow eyes as his brother started to kick the man in the ribs, ruthlessly ignoring his agonized cries. There were screams and shouts from the surrounding mages and guardsmen – and suddenly the air around Victor began to crackle and the atmosphere became so charged with magical energy that Heinrich felt his hair stand up. In his rage, the king was summoning their bloodline's innate powers; whether he was conscious or not of that fact, Heinrich did not know. He could not tear his gaze away from the man writhing in pain on the ground and he only saw his brother being engulfed by the light of his spell casting from the very corners of his eyes. The mage burst in loud, terrified sobs and his cries turned into bloodcurdling screams as the king's fire spell exploded in his face.

His inhuman screeches resonated in the throne room as the flames melted his skin, and soon the sounds were joined by the chaotic shrieks and wails of his subordinates. The guardsmen wavered from their spot, possibly torn between the oath they had pledged to the king and their sworn duty to protect the man from him. Heinrich watched the scene, his body numb with disbelief. It was all so surreal, it had to be a nightmare. The screams tearing apart his eardrums, the man howling in pain, the stench of burned skin and hair, and worse of all, that tiny, tiny corpse – all of it _had_ to disappear once he'd woken from the twisted world his sick mind had created. If not... _if not_ –

Another flame flickering to life in Victor's hand and Heinrich's brother opened his mouth to roar, but a group of guards finally made their move, pulling him away from the target of his wrath. Victor shouted and cursed and fought back, his eyes bulging out of their eye sockets. Even so, he was not strong enough to escape their grip and the guardsmen managed to drag him out of the throne room. Heinrich and the remaining mages and knights looked at the door through which the king had disappeared with silent, cowed gazes, the vast hollowness of the throne room still pierced by Victor's vociferous voice and the medic's screams of agony.

As soon as the king's bellows were out of earshot, a few healers ran to their superior's side to tend to his wounds. The man had finally passed out, and only a few moans now occasionally left his mouth. Heinrich made the mistake of stealing one glance at his face before one of the healer mages moved, blocking his view of the agonizing man. The head medic's features had become a mash of charred flesh and purulent, blistering skin.

Heinrich's eyes slowly drifted away, his mind still unable to process the current events. His leaden, aching feet started to drag him to where Ernst lay. From behind, he realized that the head medic had stopped making sounds altogether, and his ears caught instead a few soft sobs coming from the other mages. With lethargic, mechanical movements, Heinrich continued to put one foot in front of the other. He was strangely indifferent to the man's fate.

"I'm truly sorry, Your Highness," a healer mage still kneeling by Ernst's side said, bringing tearful eyes to meet Heinrich's own. The king's brother hung over Ernst's inert body, contemplating the boy's bloodied form, now hearing only the painful sound of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. His gaze immediately went to the blue-green eyes he was so fond of; they were still wide open, still staring ahead – and now his breathing came to an abrupt stop and, without warning, Heinrich found himself falling, his legs growing suddenly and inexplicably weak, his head feeling light, so _light_ –

"Easy there!" a voice gasped as someone caught Heinrich's collapsing form.

"T-this can't be happening," the whispered words came out of Heinrich's mouth all on their own, "he's just a boy, that can't be... this can't be... not Ernst..."

"We should get Prince Heinrich out of here," someone cried out as Heinrich's body started to shudder uncontrollably. The next few minutes seemed like a blur to him : he was somehow vaguely aware of being carried somewhere, but other than that, his mind drew a blank. Next thing he knew, he was laying on something comfy and warm – his bed, most likely, dressed in his night garments. His vision was blurry as well; had someone removed his glasses?

"What should we do now?" a female voice asked in low tones.

"Our priority is to tend to the king," a man answered grimly. "I can't spare anyone to watch over Prince Heinrich. We should give him a sleeping draught for now."

"I... I..." Heinrich could hear himself respond. His eyes followed the male medic's face. The man's mouth was moving rapidly and a number of sounds were leaving his mouth, but Heinrich could not even begin to understand what he was saying. The woman scurried away from his bedchambers and the man continued to talk to Heinrich, but for some reason his words seemed so irrelevant, so _insignificant_...

The woman returned and together they coaxed him into drinking something thick and sickeningly sweet. Soon, his head felt very heavy.

"Your Highness," Heinrich found himself hearing, "we must take our leave to see to your brother. We'll come visit you on the morrow."

"I'm truly sorry," the woman said breathlessly, and out of the daze, he could glimpse them quickly bowing before they both darted out of the room.

Everything began to sway. Through his half-open eyes, he could however see a green light pulsating somewhere in front of him. He tried to focus his gaze on the glow, raising a feeble arm to reach it; the light grew brighter and suddenly the world as he had always perceived it to be ceased to exist.

* * *

"_Uhhh..._"

A terrible pain palpitated in his temple with every heartbeat. He moaned, grabbing his head with an unsteady hand, feeling the throbbing of the blood under his fingertips. At least the ground was refreshingly cool to the touch. He pressed his burning cheek to the floor and his skin clung to the cold stone, sending a shiver through his entire body.

"Wake up," a child's voice called out.

_I'd rather not to_, he thought gloomily. He had the feeling something awful had happened. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the comforting darkness of sleep.

"You must wake up, keeper of the White Chronicle," another child said, and his or her voice was softer than the other's.

It took him every ounce of strength in his body to open his eyes. Through the blur, he noticed that he was laying on tiles made of grey slate stone. Odd. The floor in his room was covered by a thick burgundy carpet.

"Where...?" Heinrich mumbled, rising to his feet shakily. He rubbed his weary eyes. A fog still enveloped everything.

"Welcome, Heinrich," one of the two voices said, "we were expecting you."

"Me...?" Heinrich said, his vision finally clearing. He took a few wobbly steps forward, suddenly struck breathless by the sights that surrounded him.

In the distance, he could see what seemed to be stars glimmering in a never ending void. Here and there, platforms of grey slate were floating amidst the emptiness. A huge staircase flew over his head innocuously. A lamppost to his right hung upside down, its light flickering dimly. Heinrich fell down in a disarray, his knees bumping painfully on the ground.

"What in the world...?" he murmured, his eyes darting back and forth madly.

"I understand this is a lot to take in at first..." one of the two children said. The voice appeared to come from somewhere in front of him and Heinrich slowly raised his gaze to find its owner.

On a platform floating ahead, two children were standing solemnly. One was a boy with light brown hair and bright orange robes. The other was a frail-looking girl with pale hair and she was dressed in violet hues. The two children had long, pointy ears and although they looked young, something in their bearing made them seem much older. He squinted his eyes to discern the details of their faces, but their features just stayed blurry. Where had he put his glasses? And why was he only wearing a flimsy nightshirt that did nothing to protect him from the chill that seemed to permeate the very air of this mysterious place?

"A pair of children...?" Heinrich said lethargically, "what on earth...? Who are you? Where am I?"

The violet-clad girl glanced at her companion, who gave a grave nod.

"I am Teo," he said, "and this is my twin sister, Lippti."

"My brother and I are the guardians of Historia," Lippti continued. "Historia is a dimension that exists out of time and space. It was created long ago by the rulers of the Empire through the power of Flux. It is accessible only to the wielders of the White Chronicle."

The pieces of the puzzles were slowly assembling themselves in Heinrich's mind. "Accessible only to the wielders of the Chronicle – does this means I have finally awakened the powers of the White Chronicle?"

Even with his faulty eyesight, he could still see the girl – Lippti – smiling slightly. "Indeed, you have, Heinrich. Although, I do wish it had happened in better circumstances."

"Better circumstances?" he repeated in a strangled voice.

"I am sorry for your loss," Teo said softly, and with those words the memories all returned in a violent blur.

The knife in the darkness. The blood pooling on the floor. The screams, the stench, the face melted beyond recognition. And Ernst, cheerful little Ernst, who loved history and geography and fencing, who was so protective of the people he loved, whose hand had been so warm in his just a few hours ago, his little Ernst was –

Heinrich's gaze was firmly fixed on the ground and yet he knew the twins were looking at him intently. With slow movements, he sat on the ground and hugged his knees, his nails digging in the fabric of his pants. A whimper came out of his mouth and all of a sudden he was sobbing heavily, his shoulders shaking with every sound that left his lips.

The twins contemplated his grief without saying a word and he almost forgot their presence as the sobs tore away his body. He could not remember sensing anything of the sort, could not recall feeling something that approached in any way the sorrow, the despair even, that was currently seizing every aspect of his being. His hands now roamed his hair and he scratched at his scalp furiously, the fingernails leaving angry, bloody gashes in their wake. Hundred of crazed thoughts raced through his brain – but there was one, one that would not leave, the thought that he would gladly be stabbed by Victor a thousand times over if it meant not seeing Ernst's empty blue-green eyes ever again. He started to scream – imploring and begging and pleading for anything, for anyone to just erase that terrible image – that horrible sight of Ernst lying in his own blood – that now seemed permanently etched of the inside of his eyelids.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he gave one last, mournful exhalation and his body stopped shuddering, his arms encircling his knees again.

"How could this happen...?" he murmured, "he's only ten... just a boy..." With great effort, he turned his furious, red-rimmed eyes to Teo and Lippti. "_How could this happen?_" he cried out, the words scraping at his aching throat.

The twins looked at each other. "Fate can be cruel," Teo eventually said, "and sometimes it takes only a small pebble to set the flows of history in a completely different path."

Heinrich shook his head slowly. "Different path...?" he repeated dimly as a new kind of strength, one fuelled by anger, coursed through his body. "What are you going on about? What does that have to do with anything? _What does that have to do with Ernst's death?!_"

"We can see bits and parts of the future," Lippti explained. "In other possible futures beside this one, Ernst lived far longer."

"..._what?_" Heinrich snarled, "what do you mean other possible futures?"

"For the bearer of the White Chronicle..." Teo began.

"...the future is always in motion." his sister completed.

Gradually, the long hours spent listening to his father as the old man explained the history of their family floated back to the forefront of his mind, "...because the Chronicle gives the Sacrifice powers over time itself." Heinrich passed his hands through his hair in a feverish manner. "Does it? Those time-travelling powers are not a myth?"

"They are central to the accomplishment of your duty, in truth," the girl twin calmly enunciated.

Heinrich's heart began to race. "So that means I can alter the past in order to have the future that I want!"

"Yes," Teo agreed, "although, you must use that ability sparingly. Some things cannot be changed and it falls to you to accept them. If you don't, the strain upon your mind would drive you to madness."

"So, there is something I could change in order to save Ernst's life?" Heinrich said, tracing back the events behind Ernst's death in quick succession. All of a sudden, his eyes snapped back to where the twins were standing.

"That man!" he nearly shouted, "the man who killed Ernst! I remember him! He was the beggar we met near the fountain! The one I've told Ernst and Eruca to stay away from!"

It was all so clear now. "He must have followed us inside the castle when we took that secret passage... he heard me using Eruca and Ernst's real names! I'm the one who led him inside!"

Lippti tilted her head to the side. "Exactly. Now that you know this, can you save your nephew from his cruel fate?"

"Yes... _yes_..." he said avidly, "but _how?_"

The twins exchanged a long look. Then they both disappeared in a flash of light.

"_No!_" Heinrich shouted. He stood up, his eyes scurrying everywhere desperately, his wobbly feet barely supporting his weight. To his great relief, the two children reappeared on another platform far away from his own. He ignored the pain in his legs to rush after them, running so fast he stumbled a couple of times on the steep stairs that connected their platform to his own.

When he finally made it, there was another flicker of light and they reemerged, farther still. "_Wait!_" he cried out between pained gasps. Again, he began to run blindly, his mind registering dimly the fact that the platform where he had once stood when he had first arrived to this mysterious place now appeared to be floating just over his head – upside-down. He pushed this useless detail out of his mind.

This game of cat-and-mouse went on for a few moments and Heinrich, still dashing through the mazes of stairs and platforms, noticed for the first time that his surroundings were beginning to change. Light was gradually filling the star-studded void, and the horizon of Historia was starting to look more like a sky on the cusp of twilight. He slowed down as he approached the end of the stairs, and he reached another platform, one that was larger and more meticulously decorated than the ones he had previously seen. An old book was lying open on the ground. With a slow reverence, Heinrich seized the White Chronicle, his fingers trembling as they caressed the yellowed paper.

"Now, bearer of the White Book of Mana," he heard Lippti's voice saying gravely, "what does the Chronicle tell you?"

The twins were now sitting on two columns on the edge of the platform. Heinrich's gaze left the two children, settling on the old pages of the Chronicle instead.

A rectangular notch, followed by thin line, was drawn on the first page. Under the notch, a few words were written with a careful hand.

_Heinrich and Ernst run into the crowd to find Eruca. They meet a vagrant who follows them back to the castle. The man kills Ernst, sending Heinrich in the throes of despair. The world is engulfed in sand as a distraught Heinrich forgets to do his duty._

"That's..." Heinrich gasped, "that's... is it narrating my _life? _What does it mean, the world is engulfed in sand as I forget my duty?"

"The Chronicle sees what would happen if you continued through that course of history," Teo stated. "It seems the murder of Ernst would doom the world to an early death. Your nephew is quite important for the future... both yours and the entire world's."

"That notch you see at the beginning of the line is called a node," Lippti continued. "The Chronicle records the points in the timestream where it is possible for you to come back. You can use those nodes to alter the past as you see fit."

"I see..." Heinrich said, his brain slowly taking in all of this information. His eyes were swollen and painful and his throat still ached from all the sobs and shouts. He had little interest in knowing more than he needed to complete his task.

"Let's talk about this later. I have to save Ernst now." He gazed at Lippti and Teo with eyes full of newfound hope and determination.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, a great noise echoed through the emptiness of Historia. Heinrich teared his eyes away from the twins and nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw a large staircase crossing the emptiness, moving swiftly in his direction. With a loud _thud_, it connected itself to the platform where Heinrich stood, and the young man fought to stay on his feet as the floor shook.

The twins turned to look at the staircase in front of him – no, Heinrich realized, they were gazing at the great gate that was erected at the end of the stairs. He understood immediately what he had to do. He looked down at the node, concentrating all of his attention on the words penned on the page, committing them to memory, before he started to run at a breakneck pace through the stairs, his mind consumed by one thought. _I'll save you! I won't let anyone hurt you anymore!_

"Good luck on your journey," he heard Teo's voice calling from far away and it was the last thing he was aware of as a blinding light cracked from behind the thick stone doors, robbing him of all sight.

* * *

"...that doesn't count! I was just a kid!" Ernst's voice floated to his ears. Heinrich yelped and tumbled out of his seat, landing painfully on his behind. The red stockes spilled out of the bouquet as he fell. From behind his glasses _(how strange, he was wearing his glasses and his frock coat again)_ he scrutinized the boy's features, drinking up the sight of those bright golden locks and that pair of blue-green eyes staring back at him.

"O-oh, oh my god! _Ernst!_" Heinrich cried out, his voice choking, "it's you... you really are..."

A group of passersby halted nearby, whispering between themselves, and Ernst watched Heinrich nervously, appearing quite taken aback by his uncle's behaviour.

"What's wrong with you?" Ernst said, slightly recoiling, "why are you looking at me like that...?"

"I... you..."

For a few seconds, Heinrich could not find his voice. He just stared at the boy, mouth dangling open, and the desire to grab him and carry him back home where he could not be harmed crossed his mind. But then a horrifying thought raced back to his brain, and he jumped to his feet, startling Ernst even more.

"_Eruca!_" he shouted, "we have to find your sister, Ernst! She's in danger!"

Ernst nearly dropped the bluebells and the bag of cookies. "I-in danger?! W-what do you mean, in danger?!"

Heinrich only grabbed the boy's hand and ran through the crowd, pushing roughly the people out of his way. Soon, his ears caught Eruca's soft voice.

"...they attacked your village?" he heard her say, "that's horrible!"

"_Eruca!_" Heinrich screamed. The girl turned to him, tensing in fright. Behind her, with a half-eaten cookie in hand, stood the man who had killed Ernst.

From the bottom of his gut, Heinrich could feel a great roar building up. The beggar stared at him blankly as the sound escaped his mouth and his eyes showed the barest hint of fear when Heinrich lunged at him, his fist colliding violently with the man's jaw. Eruca shrieked, her voice echoed by a chorus of startled shouts coming from the surrounding onlookers.

"Uncle!" Ernst cried out, "what are you doing?!"

"This man has a knife! He was going to stab Eruca!" Heinrich yelled back. He grabbed the beggar by the collar, forcefully bringing him to his feet, and rummaged through his cloak, disregarding the man's weak protests. Heinrich's eyes widened as he found the item he was looking for. He threw the knife on the ground and the crowd gave a collective gasp as the sight of the weapon.

"N-no, sir, please! I wasn't going to hurt your daughter, p-please – !"

Heinrich let out a growl that was almost feral. "Threatening the king's daughter is a crime punishable by death!" he hissed and there was another exclamation of the crowd at his words.

"T-the king's daughter? T-that's Princess Eruca?!" the beggar wheezed.

"What's going on, here?" a voice hollered from behind. Heinrich looked over his shoulder, feeling a savage smile tugging at his lips. Two city guards were running toward them.

"Guards! Help me!" he cried out, "I am Prince Heinrich, younger brother to your king. This man here tried to attack my poor niece, Princess Eruca!"

"The king's brother?" one of the two city guards said, his eyes round with incredulity, while his colleague pointed his blade at the vagrant's neck. "And Prince Ernst and Princess Eruca too! What are you all doing out of the castle?"

Heinrich swept a hand over his dirt covered frock coat before answering with feigned distress. "I was taking my nephew and niece out to the city for the Midsummer Festival, of course. The poor children had begged me to go." His gaze fell on Ernst's murderer and he could not keep the viciousness out of his voice as he added, "and then this villain attempted to kill my beloved niece! By God, please take this scum out of my sight! I can't bear to look at him anymore!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

The two guards hauled the beggar by the arms under the people's hostile eyes.

"Off with his head!" a man suddenly shouted.

The crowd roared in approval.

"She's just a child, how dare he!"

"Coward! _Murderer!_"

"Give him what he deserves!"

The vagrant stumbled backward – he suddenly appeared pitiful in his fright. His eyes frantically went from one direction to another, almost as if he was confused by the increasing number of people calling for his death.

"M-mercy, m-mercy please..." the man pleaded. But the people were relentless in their condemnations, unforgiving in their anger. "Oh, p-please – !"

He tried to break free of the guards' grasp. Heinrich heard him giving one last, loud scream as the soldiers dragged him into the thick of the crowd.

Most of the commoners followed the guardsmen as they escorted Ernst's would-be killer, and the ones that remained kept their distance from Heinrich and the children. He felt an odd sense of gratitude towards them for that; the hand that he had used to punch the man was shaking like a leaf and he was loath to have them see him in that state.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Ernst putting his hands on his sister's shoulders. The poor girl was white as a ghost.

"_Eruca!_" Ernst cried out, "are you all right?! Please tell me he did nothing to you!"

The young princess only gave a barely perceptible nod. Heinrich took one, two steps toward his nephew and niece, and as he reached their side, he fell to his knees, suddenly feeling weak and limp like a rag-doll.

"Uncle – !" Ernst exclaimed, "what's wrong? Are you alright?!"

Heinrich just shook his head. Unshed tears stung his eyes, but he could not allow himself to cry in from of all the commoners; he was a member of the Royal Family of Granorg, after all. Instead, a strange sound, one that was in-between a laugh and a sob, escaped his mouth.

"W-was he – was he really going to – ?" Eruca said in a soft voice laden with fright. Her brother squeezed her shoulder protectively.

"Don't be afraid," Heinrich said, looking at them hungrily with his bloodshot eyes, "it's all over... I won't let anyone hurt you ever again..."

Heinrich stared in the direction where the guards had carried the man to – at least Heinrich hoped – his death.

"Never again," and the two whispered words vanished in the air, the darkness that tinged them unnoticed by the two fearful children.

* * *

**Author's notes : **_So our not-so-heroic protagonist has finally awakened the White Chronicle. Yay...? From now on there will a couple of timeskips here and there, since we all know Heiss just kept abusing his time-travelling powers like a dumbass. Also, if you have anything constructive to say about my writing, please do. I'm not that fond of it to be honest – I feel I have trouble with verb tenses for example, and I abuse my poor thesaurus waaaay too often. Anyway, thanks for reading!_

_**Edit **__: I rewrote several things, since I was in a complete hurry when I first posted this _ I hope the new parts read at least better. _


	5. Chapter 4 - One Too Many

_- Chapter 4 -_

One Too Many

* * *

Heinrich coughed into his handkerchief yet again, feeling like his lungs were going to soon follow suit. _Damn it! If this Prophet doesn't show up soon, I swear I'll –_

"That sounds pretty nasty," the man who stood next to his right said cordially, "maybe you oughta go see a healer to get that checked out?"

A few surrounding onlookers eyed Heinrich sympathetically as he looked at his ruined handkerchief with a scowl. He had the sudden wish to snap at the man; standing in this thick crowd for hours on end just to catch a glimpse of some foreign religious figure he did not even give a damn about had begun to wear his patience thin.

Instead, he just took a deep breath and gave him a rueful grin. "I'm quite fine, thank you. It's just that those Thaumachines fumes don't seem to agree with me. I'm not used to them." He added a dose of carefully calculated dim-wittiness to his expression, and the little girl next to the man – his daughter probably – echoed back his smile with a toothless grin of her own. "I'm from out of the city, you see."

"Oh! A country mouse! Is it your first time in the Capital then?"

The man's words ruffled Heinrich's feathers the wrong way and he felt his smile freeze. _I'm no peasant, you imbecile._ His tone was nevertheless as pleasant as ever when he answered the man. "Yes, yes, I've never seen a city so big! And this crowd is quite something too. Is Noah Square always so full when the Prophet is giving a speech?"

"Always! I've seen all of 'em even since I was a lad and it's always as crowded as this!"

Heinrich fought back a snort. This Noah fellow was certainly more popular with his people than his brother was with his own. He imagined Victor would give a tantrum of epic proportions if he ever caught wind of this.

"But we should keep quiet now, it's going to start any second now."

The murmurs of the crowd were indeed dying down. Heinrich raised his gaze and squinted to see if someone had appeared on the balcony of Castle Alistel. When he first started to travel incognito upon awakening the powers of the White Chronicle, he had stopped wearing his glasses in public; perhaps a prince of Granorg, son to the old king and brother to the new, could afford the extravagant price of a pair of spectacles, but a nameless, ordinary wanderer definitely could not.

Screwing his eyes, Heinrich stood on his tiptoes to get a better view. He soon distinguished the forms of two men standing on the balcony. Cheers swelled across the crowd, and the tallest of the two raised a hand in greeting. The people gathered in Noah Square responded to his salutation with a surge of enthusiasm, the sounds of their exuberant shouts and applause growing so loud Heinrich felt them reverberate in his chest. Even though the way the crowd pressed into him was beyond uncomfortable, Heinrich found himself grinning. _Victor wouldn't like this one bit!_

What followed was however so drab Heinrich felt his interest dim and finally disappear into nothingness. Perhaps the Prophet had once been a charismatic figure and talented speaker, but now it was clear that the years had caught up to him. His voice was so thin and weak that Heinrich could barely make out the words, and the bits and parts he did discern were either uninspired drivel about how they were God's chosen or long, tedious prayers asking His protection for the year that was about to begin.

Heinrich had all but fallen asleep on his spot when the Prophet stopped his mumbling some moments later. The crowd had then erupted into cheers again, snapping him out of his doze. His gaze went to the balcony. The tall, dark-skinned man who was accompanying the Prophet was now approaching the railings, his hand raised to salute the masses.

The crowd welcomed the newcomer with increasing fervour. Heinrich wished he could see the man's features more clearly. _Is that General Hugo? The one they call the Prophet's Voice?_

"My dearest brothers and sisters," said the man – it probably _was_ General Hugo, Heinrich surmised – his deep voice sweeping over the distance as the entire crowd went deathly silent, "it is with great joy that I am allowed to stand at the side of our Blessed Father today."

Hugo paused and the people gathered in Noah Square held their collective breath. The atmosphere was suddenly different – there'd been delight and a quiet reverence on every face while the Prophet had been giving his blessings, but now the air was taut, heavy with the promise of violence. Yet, it seemed it was not because the Alistellians feared General Hugo; in fact, they gazed at him with an ardour that was disturbing to see.

"Along with His Holiness, I must express my most cordial wishes for the coming of this new year," General Hugo said. "But as auspicious as this day is, it is with great regret that I must tell you, my brothers and sisters, of the terrible ordeals God has presented us to test our faith."

Heinrich felt sweat pooling from under his bangs. Why was he so tense? And why was the crowd so eerily silent?

"To the west, the earth is withering and dying," the Prophet's Voice continued, and his words were met with a murmur of assent from the crowd, "and the wicked beings who call this dreadful land home, the ones who has endlessly oppressed our people, the ones who would have gladly exterminated us if not for the bravery of our Prophet, now covet everything we have toiled and spilt our blood for."

Heinrich swallowed nervously. _Granorg. He's speaking of us Granorgites._

"The Granorgites have always turned their back on God, but His ever-watchful eyes has seen their heresy in all of its depravity. The death of the land is proof of that. Still, to escape God's just wrath, they now relentlessly assault our brothers and sisters of the farthest reaches of the realm."

It was not a murmur that went through the masses at these words, but a long, deep rumble filled with anger.

"Children of Noah!" Hugo suddenly shouted, startling Heinrich even more. On the balcony above, the General was shaking his fist at the heavens. "Evil has been born unto this land in the form of King Victor of Granorg! Those of his bloodline carry a taint, a disease of the mind instead of the body, one they have inherited from their ancestors, the Imperials who thought themselves gods until they were cast down for their pride."

The crowd's clamour grew in intensity. Heinrich stood very still, not quite believing his ears, almost fearful of hearing the rest.

"The time of judgement draws near! There is only one way to drive this evil away from our land!"

There were cries of 'death to the tyrant!' and 'destroy the heretics!' from the crowd.

"Yes!" the General's voice boomed, "yes, my children! We must destroy the ones who carry that blood and every single of their wretched followers! Only then will Alistel transform into the Promised Land our Blessed Father dreamt of when he escaped Granorg with God's chosen! Yes, only then, my children!"

A deafening roar rippled through the masses. Numb with shock, Heinrich looked from side to side. Obscenities and curses came from everywhere in the plaza, the Alistellians all but calling for the slaughter of his entire family. And the man who was next to him, the man who had so graciously enquired to his health earlier, was red-faced as he shouted "_Death to Granorg!_" his once friendly features deformed by hate. The man's little girl repeated after him with childish enthusiasm; what was more horrifying was that she did not even appear to realize the dreadful nature of the words which were leaving her mouth.

Heinrich stared at her, and as her eyes met his, her face broke into a smile. It suddenly struck him that she was about Eruca's age. The thought left him cold for some reason.

* * *

"You have returned, Heinrich," Lippti said as Heinrich appeared in a burst of green light, landing softly on the platform that floated in front of her and her brother. She tilted her head before continuing. "Did Alistel displease you that much?"

Heinrich arranged his cuffs and shot her a sullen look.

"I always thought Victor was crazy whenever he raved about the evils of the Alistellians," he said, a single eyebrow rising scornfully, "but it seems they really are as mad as the stories made them to be. And I can't still understand how they can manage to breath! Those damn Thaumachines are releasing fumes everywhere! The stench is unbearable!"

Teo seemed lost in thoughts. "Thaumachines... the Alistellians appear to have forgotten the lessons left by the fall of the Empire. It might cause problems in the long run. Perhaps it will even end up accelerating the desertification rate."

A shiver went through Heinrich's spine at Teo's words. "Do the Thaumachines consume that much Mana? They're not – they cannot – "

"Not with their current technology, no," Teo replied, "although in a few decades, they might drain Mana as efficiently as the machines of the Old Empire did. And then the world will be destroyed at a much quicker pace."

Heinrich winced.

"Wonderful. How truly wonderful. In Alistel, scientists are creating machines that will eventually kill the continent while their Prophet's dog urges his people to kill my entire family. In Celestia and Forgia, the Beastkind refuse any contact with us. And in Granorg, my dearest brother..." Heinrich gave a dark, throaty laugh, "well, his solution to the impending destruction of the world is to murder me and then poor Eruca in a couple of years."

"Don't be so pessimist, Heinrich," Lippti said. "All around the continent, many people are as worried about the desertification as you are. If you sought their help..."

"Why should I?" Heinrich snapped, "I should not be even giving a damn about this, since I'll be dead by the time this becomes a concern."

Silence fell. Heinrich felt the heat of the twins' stares on him.

"How long do I have to keep this going?" he spoke sharply, "how many time do I have to live through the same three years again?"

"Until your soul matures and you experience your spiritual awakening as a Sacrifice," Teo replied dryly. It was probably the thirteenth time he had repeated this particular sentence.

Heinrich crossed his arms, furious at Teo's vague answer. "How am I supposed to experience my 'spiritual awakening'? I don't even know what a spiritual awakening is!"

Teo was as stone-faced as ever. At least Lippti still seemed supportive. "I believe you are very near your awakening, Heinrich." she said, her voice gentle, "you have already experienced something of the sort many years ago, after all. You have simply forgotten about it."

For a moment, the three of them did not utter a word. Finally, Lippti opened her mouth again.

"What do you intend to do, now, Heinrich? Do you want to go to the past again, or...?"

"I will, but not to travel again," Heinrich said curtly, "I'm tired. And technically, since those last repetitions I've done nothing but travel through the continent," he counted the months through his head, "I've been away from home for one year! Can you imagine it? I've spent one year reliving the same damn month over and over and _over_ again, only in different places, doing different things!"

"It's alright, Heinrich," Teo said in a placid tone, "take the time to rest and see your family. You don't need to be so hasty in accomplishing your tasks as Sacrifice. You have all the time in the world."

Heinrich gazed coldly at the pointy-eared boy. "Do I? The more I see it, the more I realize my time is quickly running out."

* * *

Heinrich blinked. As always, it took him some moments to realize he had just came back from a trip to Historia. He blinked again, slowly recognizing his surroundings. Apparently, this particular node took him back to his bedchambers. How strange. He had completely forgotten about this one detail.

He searched through his bag for his glasses, and as he pushed them back on his nose, the burgundy blur above him cleared, showing the familiar pattern of his bed canopy. He rummaged through his bag again, this time taking the White Chronicle in hands.

He raised it above his head, reading the words penned under the node he had just taken.

_Approximately one year away from the date of the Ritual, Heinrich sets out on a journey to see the world. _

He sighed and the words started to rearrange themselves on the page.

_Approximately one year away from the date of the Ritual, Heinrich sets out on a journey to see the world, but ultimately decides to stay in Granorg with his family._

His eyes swept across the bedchamber. The room was as immaculate as he had left it one year ago – or rather, in the few moments he was truly gone. He groaned. Keeping track of time had become quite impossible since he had acquired the White Chronicle so many years ago (although chronologically speaking, it had only been two years).

"_Ugh!_" he spat. It was all so confusing he nearly wanted to bash his head against the wall.

Not for the first time he wished Victor had been the one to carry out this loathsome task, especially since he appeared to be doing a rather poor job at his own duties. Everywhere in the realm, the commoners were worrying themselves raw about yet another terrible harvest. Meanwhile, the king's excesses still managed to grow, adding to the citizens' anger. And as the war went on, more and more refugees sought asylum in the capital, only to find themselves being brusquely turned away at the city gates. Some of them had even begun a dangerous trek through the desert to emigrate to the southern country of Cygnus. Heinrich had been shocked by this; just how desperate had these people become?

Heinrich sighed again. It was idiotic of him to dwell on such things. Daydreams where he ascended to the throne instead of Victor had come quite often when he had been younger and far more naive, but now he knew how foolish it was to waste time being lost in such fancies.

He raised from his bed, walking to his table to empty the rest of his bag. Along with the Chronicle, he had also brought a few books and a number of maps along for his trips. And hidden in a large pocket by the front, there was a knife he always carried with him wherever he went. Memories of blood and empty blue-green eyes flashed in his mind as he contemplated the weapon. Never again, he had promised himself. He slid the weapon in his belt.

He took the White Chronicle in hands once more. He had a feeling today was rather important. Why would the Chronicle put a node on this particular date?

He was taken out of his thoughts by a knock. Slowly, he steered himself towards the door.

It was Kristoffer, the valet his brother had assigned him some years ago when he had dismissed his previous one. As with most of the personal servants he had before, Heinrich did not trust the man; he had a feeling his brother used most the castle staff to spy on him.

"I have come to help you prepare for tonight's feast, Your Highness," Kristoffer said, his voice as dry as sand.

"Feast? What feast?"

The words had barely left his mouth that he remembered the event in question.

"Damnit!" Heinrich said, hitting his forehead with his palm, "today is Ernst's birthday, isn't it?" He knew there was a reason why he always ran from the castle as soon as he could whenever he travelled back to that particular node.

The valet's ancient face was as inexpressive as ever. "It is, Your Highness. Shall we start the preparations now?" His eyes glanced to Heinrich's thick, wild hair. He clearly disapproved of Heinrich's current state of general scruffiness. "I fear we have a lot of work ahead of us."

Heinrich scowled. Well, he _had _skipped the poor boy's birthday in every preceding timeline. He could very much endure the company of Victor and all the parasites of his court this time for Ernst's sake now, could he?

"Alright," he grunted. "Do your worst."

* * *

Ernst was in a rather foul mood for his twelfth birthday.

The boy sat the nearest to his father, but the king was more interested in one of the members of his court, a count named Gamlen, who also had the honour to be seated at the royal table today. The count was a distant relative of theirs who was in possession of some lands in the south. Watching Victor converse with the man, Heinrich was certain his brother had not invited him for a simple family reunion.

Accompanying the count was his four children. The two younger sons were of age with Ernst and they appeared as interesting as a piece of moulding dry cheese to Heinrich. The middle child was a pretty blonde young woman who laughed at little too loudly at Victor's lewd remarks. And the eldest was a red-haired youth whose face seemed stuck in a perpetual scowl. In contrast to his siblings, his eyes were shrewd, and the disdain he held towards the rest of his family was palpable. _An ambitious one, this boy... I wonder how long it will be before the count will be the victim of a terrible 'accident' that leaves the boy the sole heir of his father's lands..._

Heinrich was seated a little farther from his brother, with Eruca being to his left. Separated from her brother, the girl had been mostly quiet for the entirety of the feast. She did even not appear to be aware of the occasional glances her father and Gamlen gave her, nor did she notice how the count sometimes nudged his two younger sons to get them to interact with her. From the other end of the table, Ernst looked at her with worried eyes. _Poor boy, _Heinrich thought_, has he realized what his father is planning for his sister?_

It was an efficient plan, Heinrich admitted bitterly. How very smart his brother was, making sure the Sacrifice produced a few offspring to serve as their eventual successors. In Eruca's case, she would probably end up breeding as soon as she had her first blood. Heinrich's hand clenched around his wine goblet. He had fought this fate tooth and nail, but the girl was far too sweet to do the same – and far too scared of her father.

"Pardon me, Father," Ernst suddenly said, raising from his seat, "may I be excused from this table?" Victor and his guests went silent and soon even the rest of the dining hall quieted down.

The king's eyes narrowed.

"And where do intend to go, Prince Ernst? Is there something so pressing you would abandon our guests like that?"

The boy gave an humourless smile.

"It's something I'd rather not tell, especially not in front of a lady. Let's just said I drank a little too much." He genuinely grinned at Gamlen's daughter who giggled. There were a few laughs from the other tables.

Victor's cheeks coloured and he sent his son away with a swat of the hand. The boy swiftly exited the dining hall, Eruca's mournful eyes following him all the way.

Thirty minutes passed and Ernst did not return. By then, Heinrich had cleared the content of two or three goblets of wine, and his head felt heavy and foggy. Victor laughed again and Heinrich was so focused on the hate the sound spawned in his heart he almost did not notice Eruca tugging at his sleeve.

"Ernst hasn't come back," she said quietly. "Should we go look for him?"

Heinrich peered at his niece's worried face for a few second before rising from his chair and clearing his throat.

"Your Majesty," he said, "may we be excused? Your daughter doesn't feel well. I'll escort her back to her chambers."

"A servant can do that," Victor drawled.

Eruca quickly rose from her seat.

"Please, Father! I just want Uncle to read me a story before I go to sleep!"

The entire table snickered and Heinrich turned to scowl at the girl. She looked meekly at her feet.

"Alright, alright," Victor said between a few guffaws, "I'll let your uncle go since he obviously is the only one that can perform this very important task." The table was drowned in chuckles yet again.

Heinrich swiftly turned away from the table and walked through the dining hall with stiff movements, fighting to ignore the loathsome sounds of their laughter.

Out of the dining hall, Eruca pulled his sleeve again.

"Where do you think Brother went?"

Now that his brother was out of sight, Heinrich felt slightly better. "Same place he always goes when he's annoyed. The library." His nephew shared that with him. _He's like me_, Heinrich thought all of a sudden. For some reason, this realization produced the strangest of feeling in his chest.

The two descended the stairs that led to the library and, as Heinrich predicted, the young prince was sitting by the light of a candle, reading.

"You realize your father will not be pleased that you skipped the celebration he prepared for your birthday, don't you, my boy?"

Ernst turned to face his uncle and sister, his expression sullen.

"That wasn't a celebration for me," the boy spat, "it was an occasion for Father to hatch another one of his plots. Didn't you see the way he kept talking with Count What's-his-face?" His eyes flickered to Eruca.

"The count and his family were very nice, Ernst," Eruca admonished her brother.

Ernst scoffed. "Good that you like them so much, then, since they'll probably end up being your family too."

Eruca played with the hem of her dress. "Y-You mean through an arranged marriage? I-is that such a bad thing? I-I'm sure Count Gamlen's sons are f-fine gentlemen."

"Did you even _hear _the way Father was talking about you? You might have been a piece of meat he was trying to sell off to that guy!" He paused, and an haunted look passed in his eyes. "Father just want to use you as much as he can before you – before I have to – " his voice broke.

Heinrich's breath caught in his throat. _He knows about the Ritual, but how? I've never told him! Did he figure it out on his own?_

"...before what?" Eruca said. She had begun to frown. "What are you talking about, Ernst?"

It took Ernst another few seconds to reply. "...before we have to perform the Ritual together."

"What do you mean, Ritual?" Eruca asked. Her tone was curious, but her face had become very pale all of a sudden

"It's something to stop the decline of Mana." Ernst said curtly, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

"The decline of Mana?"

Heinrich watched the scene with an increasing sense of horror. _No, Ernst, stop, please, why do you know about this, you should never have to know about this, please, stop...!_

"Yeah," Ernst replied in a reluctant voice, "it's what causing the desertification. I've read it in a book. The Empire did something that upset the balance of Mana of the continent by using a force known as Flux and since them, there's this huge desert that keeps growing."

"And the Ritual stops the desertification?"

Ernst gazed ahead, pointedly not looking at his uncle or sister. "It slows it down... and it's something that only our family can do," he added bitterly, "by sacrificing one of our own each ten years or so."

"Oh," Eruca said simply, all of a sudden averting her eyes too.

Ernst fidgeted on his seat. "I was curious about the desertification, but they say nothing about how it's supposed to be stopped in the books," he said as Heinrich stared silently at him. "I thought maybe Father knew about it since he's the king, so I went to see him... but now I wished I hadn't asked him."

Eruca was still quiet. "Those ancestors of ours who were sacrificed..." she began softly, cupping her hands in front of her, "well, at least, they died saving the people they loved. That's a death I wouldn't mind having..."

Heinrich winced. To hear such words coming from her mouth was horrifying, but the detached, mechanical tone she had used to say them was even more so.

"_What?!_" Ernst shouted, standing up to face his sister, "Ruca! Don't you dare say things like that! The Ritual is disgusting!" To Heinrich's horror, a few tears escaped Ernst's eyes and the boy wiped them angrily. "When I'm king I'm gonna abolish it and find another way to stop the desertification!

"But, Ernst, how – "

"I don't know, Eruca, _I don't know!_" Ernst's eyes welled up again and this time he let the tears roll on his cheeks unopposed. "_Dammit_, it's not fair! Y-you guys are both going to die and there's nothing I can do about it! I hate it! _I hate it!_ I want to find another way... but there's no time! You'll both be dead by the time I become king! And Father won't – and Father just won't – !"

Sobs began to rack his small body.

"Oh, Ernst," Eruca murmured, and she swiftly embraced her brother. Her shoulders began to shake too. "W-will I really have to d-die? And y-you're going to be the one who – ?"

Ernst did not answer. He only sniffed, his small hands clenching behind Eruca's back.

A memory – one that was so horrible he had done everything in his power to forget – resurfaced in Heinrich's mind as the two children hugged each other. Only this time, it was Eruca's corpse that was lying on the floor while her brother wept, a bloody knife in hand.

Heinrich's fingers touched the place where his brother had stabbed him, his hand clutching the fabric of his waistcoat. He saw in his mind's eye an older Eruca, years after his death, doing the same, while her brother watched her with empty eyes. A cold hand seized Heinrich's entrails at this image.

* * *

The door to Victor's room was slightly ajar and Heinrich could hear the man conversing with a woman whose voice was vaguely familiar. There was a pair of soldiers stationed at the end of the corridor and they seemed to have little interest in what was going on in the king's room. Still, Heinrich patiently waited for them to look in another direction before he exhaled, focusing his attention on the Mana that flowed within him. He soon felt the familiar tingling associated with the Vanish spell and he advanced quietly, pushing the door to enter his brother's chambers.

Neither Victor nor his female guest noticed the newcomer and an invisible Heinrich walked almost lazily to where his brother was pouring himself a drink. The young woman sprawled in the bed – Count Gamlen's daughter, Heinrich noticed – was pouting like a child whose toy had been taken away.

"Come on!" she whined, "come back to bed, it's cold in here!"

Heinrich's brother gave an unintelligible grunt in response, before drinking the content of his glass in one shot. The woman huffed and crossed her arms over her ample chest. "I thought that was for me," she said, yet again sulking.

Heinrich finally released his breath, sensing a prickle all over his body. Instantly, the girl shrieked loudly, clutching the bedsheets in an attempt to cover herself, while the king whirled around, sending his glass to the floor, where it shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"Hello, brother," Heinrich began pleasantly.

"What – where did you just come from?" the king said, his voice betraying a note of anger – and panic.

"Is that your brother?!" Gamlen's daughter screeched, "how did he get in here?"

Heinrich smiled, mildly amused by their discomfiture

"I walked through the door," Heinrich said, taking the slow, placid tone someone would use with a child. "You left it open. You just didn't pay attention to me."

"_You._ What do you want?" Victor rasped, venom dripping with every word.

"_What the hell?_" the young woman screamed at the king again, "_how did this creep get in here?_"

"Woman, _shut up!_" the king yelled back, and the girl cowed at his rage.

Before Victor or Gamlen's daughter could say something again, Heinrich stepped forward.

"Brother, I'd like to speak to you of something important." The bearer of the White Chronicle grinned at the young woman in the bed and she hid her figure with a pillow. "I beg your pardon, my lady, I didn't know you two were hard at work trying to make me a new nephew or niece." He gave her a mocking bow. "I would very much like to speak to my brother alone, if you please."

A muscle twitched above Victor's eyebrow. "Go!" he barked to Gamlen's daughter, throwing her a dress that was laying on the floor. With a hateful glare, she slipped into the garment and fled without even a glance backwards.

"Call off the guards standing nearby too," Heinrich said, the wine suddenly making him bold, "I'm tired of your people always spying on everything I do."

Surprisingly enough, Victor did as he was told. When he came back to face his younger brother, Heinrich could not help but look at him with a bemused expression.

Victor sniffed the air. "Are you drunk?" he growled. "I won't accept such a conduct! You are the king's brother!"

"Bah! what if I took one goblet of wine too many? It won't make the things I want to say any more false!" Heinrich said in a singsong voice.

"So, what is it do you want?" Victor said through clenched teeth, "what was so urgent you had to come to me at this hour? While drunk, for god's sake!"

Heinrich stopped grinning, surveying his brother with calm, but fierce eyes.

"Ten years from now," he began, watching Victor's face carefully, "I want you to sacrifice neither Ernst nor Eruca."

The king stayed silent for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

"And how would we stop the desertification then?" Victor said, his mouth still smiling although his eyes were not.

Heinrich held his brother's gaze. "Either you find a more permanent way to stop the decline of Mana, or..." he paused, his eyes narrowing into mere slits, "...you offer yourself as Sacrifice to at least spare Eruca's life." Even the influence of the alcohol could not make his voice waver as he said this.

There was a loud bang as the king slammed his hand on the table. "And then who would be king in my place? Surely not Ernst?" The king was smirking, but his tone was anything but jovial.

"Exactly. He is already a bright child. I believe he will make an excellent king."

Victor's fingers drummed on the table. "Our political position is already precarious, what with those Alistellian upstarts always threatening to steal our lands. Do you really believe that it will turn out for the better in the future? That in ten years we should place on the throne an inexperienced brat to deal with those fanatics who think God had given them permission to wipe out all of us?"

Heinrich knew firsthand his brother was right about the Alistellians, but he was not about to tell him that.

"Who do you think has kept those madmen away from Granorg?" Victor said, "_I_ did. Our grandfather lost to them a few provinces that rightfully belonged to us, and our great-grandfather even died fighting their damn Thaumachines, but I, only _I_ has kept them from invading our lands. They've attacked us again and again in all the years I have been on the throne, but they've never managed to advance any more into our borders. They fear _me._"

Heinrich only stared into his brother's gaze, his eyes never blinking. Perhaps Victor was right, but he was past caring. "I think you are shamefully using these reasons as an excuse to live while you let one of your children die in your stead_._"

As the king's last bits of surprise melted to anger, Heinrich added in a cool voice. "Besides, I'd say all the refugees from the border villages that were attacked by Alistellian raiders would disagree with your assessment. But I digress..."

"You little shit," Victor snarled, now advancing towards his brother with a violent scowl. "You keep your mouth shut or I'll – "

Heinrich eyed him scornfully, firmly standing his ground. "You can't do anything to me." Under Heinrich's layer of icy aloofness, years of pent-up rage were ready to erupt. "I am your _precious _Sacrifice. If you kill me, you'll doom the kingdom."

The king now stood inches away from his brother, his face hovering above Heinrich's. "You are not so irreplaceable," Victor stated through grit teeth, "if I kill you here, they are still two others who can easily take your place in the Ritual next year."

What happened afterwards came so fast Heinrich could barely comprehend the turn of events. One second he was staring blankly at his brother, and the other he was launching himself at the man with his dagger, the blade pointed at Victor's throat, his mind visualizing every possible way to inflict as much pain as possible.

For a fraction of a second that seemed like an eternity, Heinrich focused on his brother's slowly widening eyes, not seeing the king's large hand until it was too late. The blow sent Heinrich flying. His head swam for a moment, but he went to his feet far more quickly then he would had thought himself capable of. Heinrich's vision wavered. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and he saw that Victor had stumbled backwards too. The king's face was frozen with fear.

"_Guards!_" Victor bellowed, holding the edge of a table for balance.

The fury that had exploded from within Heinrich was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as though he was not aware of anything in the world but of the thousand ways he could hurt Victor. From far away, Heinrich could hear the clanking sounds of men running in their armour, but the noise did not stir him from this strange state. All of his senses weakly focused on Victor. The king was grabbing the table tightly for support.

"Haven't thought this one through, have you, dear brother?" Victor said, his voice growing bolder with every word. "To be labelled a traitor for attempting to murder the king... such a dreadful way to go."

Heinrich grasped the handle of his knife firmly, his head still unusually empty save that deep-seated wish to _kill_. "Not as dreadful as yours," he said as he bolted towards the king.

Victor raised a feeble arm to strike down his brother, but his move was so slow Heinrich managed to crouch, evading the blow. The king stepped backward, letting out a scream as he stepped on a piece of glass. He collided with the table and his large form toppled over it. Victor eyes widened in fear as he saw Heinrich lingering over him, knife in hands.

"Wait, stop – !" the king said, the words dying in his throat as Heinrich thrust the dagger in his neck. Victor's arms twitched for a few horrifying seconds while his younger brother buried the blade as deep as he could, watching his sibling's pale blue eyes jerking in every direction with a hollow expression. With every gasp Victor took, dark blood flowed from his wound, staining Heinrich's white gloves; soon, the king drew his last breath, his large body giving a massive, final shudder, a strange gurgling sound leaving his bloody mouth.

Heinrich contemplated his brother's corpse in silent shock, but there was no time to brood over the swarm of conflicting emotions that threatened to engulf him.

"There he is!" came a voice from behind.

Heinrich whirled around. A guard was running towards him and the man's presence shook him off his torpor. The guard's sword came down and Heinrich's head would have been neatly cleaved in two had he not hastily sidestepped. The soldier raised his weapon again and this time Heinrich knew there was no evading it. The cold hand of fear griped his insides and he remembered the feeling of a blade puncturing his flesh –

_I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to –_

Heinrich raised his hands in front of him, all of his thoughts converging on the flux of Mana inside him, every fibre of his being imagining the magical energy being converted into a flame. Instantly, a great ball of fire burst out of his hands, and Heinrich heard a bloodcurdling scream and smelled the stench of burnt flesh and hair.

The soldier fell to the ground in a convoluted heap, holding his charred face as he howled in pain.

"Oh my god!" another voice shrieked. Heinrich turned on his feet, seeing another guard by the door. This one was younger and he was looking at his colleague with pure, undiluted horror.

Heinrich raised his hands again, taking advantage of the young man's startled fright to cast his spell. The boy met Heinrich's eyes and he took a step backward as he finally understood what the prince was doing; still, it was far too late and the fireball caught him squarely in the chest, sending him flying. He collided with the guards who stood behind him, and there were a few gasps of surprise and pain as they stumbled back.

Heinrich sprinted out of the room and in the direction of his chambers. Screwing his eyes shut, he took no notice of the guards shouting and running after him, instead forcing all of his attention on the Mana that remained in his body as he dashed blindly through the corridors. A wave of relief swept over him as he felt the familiar tingling, and he heard the soldiers crying out in shock behind. He turned a corner and slowed his pace, his bloodied hand grasping his shirt as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

As soon as he was in his room, he all but ran to his desk, opening the second drawer to grab the thick old book that lay inside. He ran his fingers on the pages, leaving a strain of red on the yellowed paper, and he promptly felt the strange, pulling sensation he now always associated with his trips to Historia.

* * *

**Author's Notes : **_You know, Hugo was kind of a chore to write. I kept reading excerpts of speeches and all and yet I still could do his big speech right. And here I thought hammy, over-the-top villains were fun to write..._


	6. Chapter 5 - Temptation

_- Chapter 5 -_

Temptation

* * *

There was a burst of green light so bright it was almost painful, and with a gasp Heinrich raised his hands to his face in an attempt to protect his eyes. He felt the sole of his boots softly touching the floor, but almost instantly his legs gave away under his weight. He cracked open his eyes; the ground was rapidly approaching...

He hit the grey slate running, one of his arms taking the brunt of the impact. A strangled scream escaped his mouth. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared the terrible drumming of the blood in his temples. He felt like his head was going to soon split in two.

"Heinrich!" he heard a child's voice call out.

He tried to move his head to find the voice's owner, but something seemed to nail every inch of his body to the ground. And the floor was cold, so cold that soon a chill swiftly took hold of him. He started to shiver and his teeth chattered, his breathing getting faster and more erratic. And the blood went on _thump-thump-thump_ in his temples, almost as if it wanted out, almost if it wanted to blurt out of his skull. His vision blurred, and darkness threatened to pull him in its embrace...

"Heinrich, stay with us!" another child pleaded.

The voice momentarily kept him grounded. With tremendous effort, he moved his arms and pushed himself off the floor and onto his knees. He blinked back tears and the smell, the mixed stench of alcohol and something else, something more acrid and _unbearable_,floated back to his nostrils. Through the tears, he saw his hands, his gloves stained red with – _oh god, what is this, what have I done?_

Immediately, he emptied the contents of his stomach on the grey slate. His throat burned, almost as if someone had set his oesophagus on fire, and the putrid smell of the remains of his dinner came to join that of the alcohol and of – _of_ –

He stumbled backwards, falling down on his rear. His eyes never left the terrible sight of his reddened hands. "Oh god, oh god, _oh god_," the words left his mouth in a horrified whisper. He climbed onto his feet as quickly as he could. In response, his heart pumped so fast he was sure it was soon going to burst out of his chest; regardless of its efforts, he still sensed the blood draining from his face as his awareness began to dim.

"_Heinrich – !_" Lippti cried out, her voice strained with worry.

He raised his eyes to the two columns where the girl and her brother sat, and the world swirled in front of him, dark spots appearing everywhere in his sight. His ears caught the faint sound of someone calling out his name as his knees buckled under him.

* * *

A terrible smell greeted his nose as he came to his senses again. He opened his eyes a bit, immediately regretting it when the ache in his temples flared. And there was another, sharper pain on one side of his head; he gingerly touched the area in question, and he felt something sticky and warm on his fingers.

"You hit your head when you fell," a child's voice said.

Squinting, Heinrich tried to find where Lippti stood, but then a green light shone, and he squeezed his eyes shut again with a grunt. However, the pain of his wound was receding slowly.

"Lippti...?" he croaked. Through the slight opening of his eyes, he could now see that the girl and her brother were very near. They had never approached him so closely before.

"How do you feel?" Teo's voice echoed. "You were unconscious for a few moments. You've lost quite a fair amount of Mana after all. Is there any place that hurt in particular?"

_Everywhere_, Heinrich wanted to answer, but he wasn't certain the twins could do anything about that. Still, he was more than grateful for Lippti's healing spell; he was sure his head wound was almost completely sealed now. The twinge in his arm had stopped too.

"I've healed all that I can now," the girl said. "You should rest a bit for now."

Heinrich did not need her to tell him that; as soon as he closed his eyes again, he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. Sometimes, he was startled out of his doze by the rasping sound of the air leaving his throat, but he always slipped back into unconsciousness immediately afterwards.

He had no idea of the amount of time that had passed when he opened his eyes once more. The pain was dull and distant now, but even Lippti's spells and his brief rest could not wash away the prickly sense of disgust seeped deep within his skin.

The twins were back on the two columns that stood on each side of the staircase that connected Historia to the real world. Heinrich raised himself on his knees, feeling the weight of their stares on him.

"You killed your brother," Teo said, his voice barely covering his disbelief. "And those guards too... you killed at least one of them without even batting an eyelash."

Nausea gripped Heinrich's stomach again. "I didn't mean to! I swear, I swear on my own life! It was just an accident!"

Teo and Lippti exchanged glances.

"You've buried a knife in your brother's throat by accident?" the pointy-eared boy said in a deadpan tone.

Heinrich began to grab fistfuls of his own hair, shaking his head feverishly.

"I... I..." He stumbled on the words. "...b-but y-you've heard what he said! He doesn't care about my death, or Eruca's, or even Ernst's for that matter. All the people in our family who have been sacrificed in the past... and all the people who _will_ be in the future..." He felt his face contort in anger. "...he doesn't give a damn about any of them! He'll kill me, then wash his hands off of it and just go on to live his life as usual! Isn't that _hateful?!_"

The twins remained silent.

"And beside, who cares if I kill him – or some random guardsman – by accident? As soon as I use the White Chronicle to return to the past, all these lives will be restored, right? At the end of all of this, the one who'll end up dead is _me_. The only death that is truly necessary here is _mine_. All the timelines point to that one, single end. And the people will go on their merry way, living and dying and breeding as though nothing has happened. The war will continue, and people will still happily slaughter each other because of my idiotic paranoid brother and of some other imbecile who hears voices in his head!"

As he spoke, the words intermingled with bouts of crazed laughter, but when his sentence came to an end, the chuckles dried in his throat and they became strange, sob-like sounds.

"Heinrich..." Lippti softly began, but she was cut off by her brother.

"Indeed, you can change the past to be as you see fit, but..." Teo paused, and there was no mistaking the disapprobation in his amber eyes, "...you must remember that you will bear the weight of every timeline in which you pass through. The fact that your brother will live in the new history you will write will not erase the memory you have of his murder. It will not negate the satisfaction you felt as you saw his blood on your hands."

Lippti shot a disapproving look at her brother. The words sank slowly in Heinrich's mind and he raised his hands to his face, studying the reddened gloves. The scent of blood and bile was getting more and more oppressing... he blinked to keep himself from crying, curling his blood-covered hands into tight fists. _Satisfaction...? _Had he really felt joyful at committing such an act?

The answer came unbidden. _Yes..._ Yes, there had been a thrill in his heart when he had seen Victor breathing his last. It had been small and fleeting, but it had existed, if only for the length of a heartbeat.

The thought made his breath hitch, and a sense of horror washed over him once again. _I didn't mean to! _a voice screamed from within his mind in response. Heinrich looked at the twins; he could now see that Lippti was frowning, her mouth pursed in disgust. _I'm not a murderer!_ he wanted to shout at her. He wanted to grab them both by the shoulders, to shake them, to make them stop, but they just stared, their gaze silently condemning while he knelt in front of them, his throat constricted by barely contained sobs.

* * *

Heinrich came back to the real world using the same node as before. This time, when Kristoffer came to fetch him, he feigned being ill (_it was not so hard of an act, after all; he could barely walk without wanting to spill the contains of his stomach everywhere)_, spending instead the entirety of the day hidden under his bedsheets. Sleep did not come to him easily, and when it did, it was filled with visions of fire, blood and blades illuminated by the faint glow of Mana crystals. He would then wake up, his sheets and clothes drenched with sweat, almost sure that Victor was soon going to erupt out of nowhere, ready to extract his vengeance in the most violent way possible.

When the morning light crept through the curtains the next day, neither his body nor his mind were at rest. Once again, he found himself staring at the patterns of the drapes of his bed canopy. An idea that had started to grow within his mind during the long hours of the night came back to him... but he swat it out of his thoughts. This burgeoning scheme was too dangerous for its own good... and far too _tempting_...

There was three soft knocks on the door. Heinrich snapped back to attention, recognizing the specific pattern of the sounds. He swiftly got out of bed, putting on a robe to go greet his visitor. Ernst was looking quite miserable and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

"Good morning, Uncle," the boy mumbled, "I know it's early and all, but, um, do you think we could go out to the city, today? I really could go for a change in scenery right now..."

Heinrich sighed. "I could too. Just wait a bit, I'll be along shortly."

Their trek out of the castle was unusually quiet. Ernst, who had recently begun to fuss whenever he had to hold Heinrich's hand under the cover of the Vanish spell (_the boy said he was beginning to get too old for this, and Heinrich was inclined to agree_), just took it without a word this time. They crossed the entire city as quickly as they could and sneaked under the guards' noses to get out of the Capital's walls. By the beginning of the afternoon, they had found a large tree on a abandoned farmland not far from the main gate. They sat under the old, leafless elm to eat a bit.

"Thanks for taking me out here," Ernst said as he took a bite out of an apple. "I feel better now."

Heinrich eyed him cautiously while he spread some cheese on a bit of rather stale bread. "Did something happen last night?"

The boy just chewed silently for a moment.

"Yeah. How could you tell?"

"Just a hunch," Heinrich replied, sighing.

"I sneaked out of my birthday feast yesterday night," Ernst explained. "Eruca ended up following me, and Father didn't like that. He said we both 'abandoned our guests'." He punctuated the last words with an affected huff.

"...but the thing that's really on your mind is the conversation you had with your sister last night, isn't it?" Heinrich said softly. "About what she will have to do ten years from now?"

Ernst looked at him, his mouth hanging open.

"How did you – ?"

"I have my ways of knowing."

Ernst seemed to mull over this answer before he spoke again. "I see... Of course you know all there is to know about the Ritual. I went to see Father a few days ago and he told me the people who perform it usually have some strange powers as a result. Something about being able to travel through time." He glanced at his uncle, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Time travel... is that why you look older?"

Heinrich grimaced. "Older? Is it so noticeable?"

Ernst gave a wry grin. "I don't remember you having so many grey hairs before. And maybe it's just me, but your hairline looks like it's receding..."

"It's _not _receding," Heinrich said, scowling.

Ernst chuckled a bit before his expression turned serious again.

"Father also said that the Sacrifices have their souls cut away from their bodies, and that it's then sealed in some parallel dimension. While it's there, it keeps accumulating Mana until it's full enough to seal the breach in the middle of the desert."

Heinrich removed some bread crumbs from his lap. "That's right."

"Without a soul, a body can't work, right? That's why the Caster gives half of their soul to them, after all. It's so their bodies can still function. But..." Ernst screwed up his face, and he nearly spat out his next words, "but that's just too vile! I mean, Eruca will essentially be just be a resurrected corpse that's kept alive only so she can be killed again – o-oh, sorry, Uncle, I-I didn't mean to put it that way..."

Ernst's expression had become one of pure misery and horror.

"There's no need to apologize," Heinrich said, and even he was surprised at the monotonous quality of his voice, "that's what I am. A walking corpse. I can even remember if my life was any different when I was alive."

"Don't say things like that! You're not a corpse!"

"If all goes according to your father's plan, in one year I will be."

"_Stop it!_" Ernst shouted, jumping to his feet. He stared down at Heinrich with eyes full of angry tears.

Heinrich winced. The words had came out all on their own. _I made Ernst cry again. _He felt his gaze harden. _No. This topic has made Ernst cry again. _Suddenly a mood similar to the one that had came over him in Victor's chambers seized him... and deep within him, something _snapped_.

"...but that of course will only happen if I follow your father's orders. And I _won't_."

Ernst stared, blinking back his tears. "W-What – ? W-What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving Granorg. I won't let myself be killed by your father. And I'm taking along with me the means to accomplish the Ritual." He touched the White Chronicle, hidden as always in his bag. "That way, you won't have to kill your sister in ten years either."

He held Ernst's gaze and the boy slowly broke into a smile. This abrupt change of mood made Heinrich feel very wary all of a sudden.

"That's the perfect plan! Somewhere in the world, there must be another way to stop the desertification. If we find it, then nobody will have to die in the Ritual anymore!"

Heinrich just looked at the boy blankly. In truth, he hadn't thought of doing something of the kind; in his mind, such a task could only be given to someone who had the resources to pull it off – in other words, someone like Victor.

"Another way...?" Heinrich said, trying to mask his uneasiness. "How could there be? It's been centuries since the fall of the Empire, and yet no one has found a permanent solution to the Mana breach in the middle of the continent."

He saw Ernst's grin slipping. "B-but, if we don't find anything, what's going to happen to the world?"

Cold horror grabbed Heinrich's insides as he saw that smile disappear. "That doesn't mean there is no solution, my boy. I just meant that it hadn't been found _yet_. I'm sure there's something to be done. I'm sure _I'll_ find something." Heinrich hoped his nephew did not detect the hollowness in his words. _I don't want to do this. Why should it be me? I didn't choose this task, _he kept thinking to himself. But he had to say something to reassure the boy somehow.

Suddenly, Ernst grabbed Heinrich's hands in his own. His blue-green eyes looked into Heinrich's red-brown ones in an earnest plea.

"You have to take me with you! You have to take _both_ of us! Eruca and me! We'll help!"

"What – ?!" Heinrich sputtered. "No – I can't – Ernst, it would be too dangerous!"

Ernst bit his bottom lip. "I don't want to stay here, squashed under Father's thumb while people out there are dying because he doesn't want to lift a finger to help them! And I'm not letting Eruca alone with him; she's terrified of him! I want to help! I'm supposed to be the next king! How can I be a good leader in the future if I already let people suffer now?"

_No – ! This is a terrible idea! _Heinrich nearly screamed at the boy. But just a look of these eyes was sufficient to destroy all resolve he had left. The desire to have a life without the weight of his fate had plagued his every waking thought ever since his father had told him he was to be a Sacrifice, so many years ago. But there was something else he had always yearned for, something that his brother already possessed, something which value Victor had never grasped... something that Ernst was now offering to him on a silver platter.

Heinrich squeezed Ernst's hands. _I have think about this one carefully..._

* * *

_Author's notes: Eeeeee, this one is a little short, but I couldn't find any other place where to stop. And I really wanted to use the last line xD. Always a classic. Thank you for reading!_


	7. Chapter 6 - New Names, New Faces

_- Chapter 6 -_

New Names, New Faces

* * *

The first time Heinrich tried to escape Granorg with the children, it ended in absolute disaster.

And yet his planning had been impeccable. He had found the perfect time, down to the very hour, to flee from the castle. He had memorized all the areas patrolled by the soldiers sent by his brother, marking in his mind every place where he needed the Vanish spell to escape their eyes. He knew every road secure enough to travel, jotted down the locations of all the markets where he could easily steal some new provisions, and even spotted a number of inns where they could stay without having the keepers prying into their affairs.

He had even altered their appearances : his usually thick and wild hair had been trimmed down and he now sported long sideburns speckled with grey, while Eruca's beautiful blonde locks had been cut drastically short, much to her dismay. The two children also had their hair dyed a dull brown close to his own colour, making it easier to pass them as his children. To the world, Eruca was now the youngest of his two sons, Matthiolus, while Ernst, for his part, had dubbed himself Stocke. For some strange reason, the boy had looked at his uncle expectantly when he had announced his new name, almost as if he wanted him to react in some way, but Heinrich had just been thoroughly puzzled in response. Ernst's shoulders had then slumped down in apparent disappointment.

By the time they had reached the southern parts of the kingdom, every soul in the country seemed to know that the king's brother had kidnapped his young nephew and niece. The farthest they went from the capital, the more difficult it became to evade the guards' watchful gazes. To his great irritation, there were no new nodes in the pages of the Chronicle, and it forced him to jump into every new course of action without having the mean to second-guess his decision.

Their luck ran out somewhere east of the biggest city of the south. After much debating with himself, Heinrich had decided to head further into the wastelands, towards the independent city-states of the Cygnan region, rather than turn west to go to Alistel. Of course, then had come the decision to follow or not the long trail of Granorgite refugees crossing the desert to reach Cygnus. Heinrich had finally decided to keep away from the roads; the less people they met, the better their chances would be, after all.

But then two weeks passed, and Eruca was dying under a lonely desert tree, the life escaping from her tiny body with every painfully drawn breath, while Ernst grasped her hands, urging her to live.

They had gotten lost barely a few days after straying from the roads. Here, gone were the trees and shrubberies which names Heinrich had so lovingly memorized since his younger days – they had yielded to ugly bushes with dry, deadened twigs and an ocean of yellowed grass. Streams had gone rarer and rarer, and by the beginning of the second week, they had started to run out of water.

Heinrich had equally distributed their meagre resources at first, but as they advanced in the wastelands, the nagging voice of doubt sprang up, so loud and persistent it buried all of his other thoughts. Perhaps they were instead meant to go to Alistel? Or maybe it was his decision to avoid the roads that had led them astray. Worse, what if he had been mistaken in bringing the children with him in his flight? Were they really safer with him than in the castle?

His fevered thoughts had grown ever more foggy with the thirst and the hunger, making each step harder to take than the last. In the end, he had conceded to keep the better part of the supplies for himself. After all, as the bearer of the White Chronicle, his death would spell the end of the world.

Heinrich had been so focused on repeating this reasoning like a mantra, to keep out of his mind the image of Eruca's eyes whenever she begged for more water, that he had barely noticed the soft thud that had come from behind. Had Ernst not screamed, he would never thought to turn to see the source of the sound. Eruca had indeed collapsed in the sand, and as her brother rushed to gather her in his arms she had started to tremble and weakly cry out for help.

Her agony had been long and arduous – and when at last a long, raspy wail left her parched lips, chilling Heinrich's blood in his veins, he had immediately reached for the White Chronicle rather than face Ernst's wrathful anguish.

Their other attempts were all equally unsuccessful. The second time, every moment he closed his eyes he was suddenly back into the desert – running in the dunes, his eyes darting everywhere to search for a stream, a pond, a human settlement, any _damn_ source of water really, and then coming back to the tree where he had left the children, empty-handed, to face Ernst's resentful tears and Eruca's vacant gaze.

And so, driven mad by fatigue and grief, he had driven their little party right into a patrol's route barely a mile away from the capital.

The third time, he succeeded in leading them to the western parts of the country in an attempt to cross the Alistellian border – but as they passed through an abandoned Granorgite village, they were set upon by bandits. Fear had coursed through Heinrich's veins like ice cold water, and he had drawn his two daggers, blindly calling upon all the magical resources he had. When he had came to his senses again, a terrible stench had greeted his nose – the smell of burnt skin and hair. Huddling up beneath a tree, eyes wide open with terror, were Ernst and Eruca. In the span of an instant, he had set three of the highwaymen on fire, before launching himself on the fourth. He could vaguely remember slashing wildly at the man to the sounds of the children screaming from behind. For many long seconds Heinrich had stood still, watching Ernst and Eruca as they silently sobbed, only vaguely aware of the blood pouring from the wound that pierced his side. He had then barely managed to reach for the White Chronicle before darkness overtook him.

It took him several months to try another escape. The fourth and fifth attempts were thwarted by guards, the latter earning him a crossbow bolt through a leg. By the sixth, his sideburns had gone completely grey, and when he sat down to cut Eruca's hair, he had grabbed the girl's golden locks so roughly she began to sob and cry out in pain. By the seventh, even Ernst and Eruca's optimism had faded into nonexistence. While they had always been anxious at the idea of fleeing with Heinrich, now they were so fearful of their father's reprisal Heinrich almost had to drag them out of the capital by force. Could it be they still possessed some deep-rooted memories of the preceding timelines, he wondered? He had heard from Teo and Lippti that such things were possible.

The eighth, however, succeeded against all odds.

It must have been due to a combination of all the knowledge gained in their previous efforts, and of sheer dumb luck, Heinrich surmised. After leaving the southernmost city of the kingdom, they managed to covertly graft themselves to the rest of the refugees fleeing to Cygnus, untroubled by guards or bandits. Had he been a religious man, Heinrich would have called it a miracle.

The other travellers were wary of them at first, only warming up to Heinrich when they noticed his skills with a blade. They relegated him to the protection of the convoy along with the other adults who could handle themselves in a fight. In exchange, Ernst and Eruca could spend the rest of the journey in the cart of some impoverished merchant along with the man's family.

To Heinrich's deep relief, they reached the northern city-state of Skalla two months later without any incident. The city itself was small, with only a few row of buildings made of clay bricks inside its thick walls. But outside the walls, hundreds of tents and run-down huts sprawled well into the wastelands.

It was in this mockery of a town that most of the refugees were forced to settle down. Jobs were also scarce in Skalla, and Heinrich was irked to find that even with his royal education, little of what he actually knew could be used for a trade. Here, there was no need for someone well-versed in botany, history or politics. What Skalla needed was stonemasons, carpenters, smiths, to build lodgings for its new inhabitants – professions, in short, that Heinrich's tutors would have all sneered at. Of course, he could also have made use of his training as a mage, but his above-average abilities would have instantly marked him as an oddity amongst the city's population, shady and diversified as he had found it to be.

So he had to turn to a skill he had found himself finely honing these past years : skewering people with the wrong end of a blade.

Heinrich's new job as a soldier for the city guard forced him to work in the southern part of Skalla, far away from the little hovel they now called home. But the idea of leaving the children behind while he went to work each day never did manage to sit quite right with him. Already, they were privy to realities he'd never wanted them to see; once, the three of them had woken up to one of the foulest, most abominable stench Heinrich had ever been subjected to. He had crawled out of their little hut to find that someone had died nearby, and the children, already awake, were watching a few men with thick gloves and masks loading his blotched corpse upon a cart. He had stared at their numb, almost disbelieving expressions with equal measure of horror and pity, but then the prickling notion that they'd probably have to face things that could be much worse settled in; suddenly, the thick and sizzling air of the desert seemed much colder than it had any right to be.

It was not surprising that those fears soon materialized into his dreams.

He dreamt of daggers in the night, slitting Ernst's throat. He dreamt of disembodied hands clawing at Eruca, tearing her flesh apart and dragging her corpse under a pile of sand. And he dreamt of Victor bursting in their hut, his guards seizing the children while he'd crush Heinrich's face with his hand, his palm heating up with a fire spell that would melt the metal of Heinrich's spectacles into his skin, and the bearer of the White Chronicle would find himself screaming and screaming as his flesh burned...

_Traitor, thief, coward_, Victor's shade would whisper those hated words over and over again, and the last thing Heinrich would see would be his brother's eyes, flaring like blue flames in the darkening haze, his consciousness fading as his entire being turned to ashes that scattered into the desert_ – _

* * *

This particular morning had started like all the others they had spent in their unfortunate new home, with Ernst poking his uncle in the ribs at the first crack of dawn to rouse him from sleep. After ingesting some foul grey sludge that could barely pass for food at Ernst's pleading (the boy had become such a worrier these days), Heinrich left the slums for the southern gate of Skalla, where his daily shifts usually began.

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Heinrich finally reached his destination. As always, his constant dreaming had drained most of his energy, and he dragged his steps along the way rather that just walk. His frequent fatigue had already not endeared him to his new colleagues, and one of the men with whom he was partnered today, Steffen, seemed to have grown to dislike him quite strongly.

"If you fall asleep on me again, I swear I'll gut you," were the young's man welcoming words. Steffen's accent and light colouring marked him as another of the town's many Granorgite refugees, but the hard set to his jaw and the way his hand always seemed to hover constantly near his sword hinted that he was no peasant fleeing the drought.

"Good day to you too," Heinrich said, gathering all his energy to muster a pleasant tone. His eyes swept around the room, noting which men of their squad were present today, before he moved his gaze to Steffen again. He had immediately recognized the young man as a potential threat because of his country of origin and background as either a soldier or mercenary. He knew he'd have to keep a constant eye on him from now... and quite possibly devise a plan to get rid of him cleanly if the need came to be.

"Always so damn chipper," Steffen spat. "I got this impression you always think something's funny about me." He closed the distance between Heinrich and himself, and looked down at the older man, a muscle twitching over his left eye. "Do you?"

Heinrich flashed a grin. Ernst always scolded him whenever he tried to rile people up, and Heinrich knew the boy was right in his reasoning, but since it was becoming one of his only pleasures as he grew older, he could never help himself.

"I would never," Heinrich said, still smiling ever so slightly.

He held Steffen's gaze, ignoring the little voice of reason (which, oddly enough, sounded like Ernst) that told him not to antagonize the other man so openly. Behind them, the other men of the garrison whispered nervously amongst themselves. Steffen bared his teeth, ready to reply, when suddenly a voice from behind cut him off.

"Is there something wrong, men?"

Heinrich and Steffen turned to see the man who had spoken. There, standing with his thick eyebrows furrowed, was their commanding officer, Sergeant Tomer. Steffen and the rest of the guardsmen snapped to attention, while Heinrich gave a far less enthusiastic salute.

"I need the two of you to be on your best behaviour today," the Sergeant said, his stern eyes fixed on Heinrich and Steffen. "There's been reports of increased banditry south of here."

"Banditry?" Steffen said. "You mean those mercenaries led by that so-called Desert Lord?"

The Sergeant scowled. "That man's no lord. Just some uppity slave slaughtering his way through the top. Still, he's well-liked enough by the rabble to be a problem for us. They all seem to believe he's some sort of revolutionary figure." He scoffed. "Such nonsense. Still, we have to keep him out of our walls by any means necessary."

In three steps the Sergeant had moved over to Steffen and Heinrich, standing so close that the latter could see the man's spittle flying with each of his final words. "So stop your petty squabbling or so help me, I'll hand you over to the boys of the Desert Patrol!"

Heinrich heard Steffen grit his teeth next to him. The soldiers who had to venture into the desert were known to have drastically short lifespans. Heinrich was aware it was in some part due to the number of bandits roaming the wastelands, but he had also heard recent tales of beasts gone insane in the wilderness and attacking travellers. Heinrich frowned. What could prompt animals to develop such vicious streaks?

"Sir, yes sir!" Steffen said, suddenly docile. Heinrich repeated after him, still lost in thoughts. With inattentive eyes, he watched the Sergeant leave; his hand lingered to his side, patting the bag where he usually carried the Chronicle... and finding it oddly _empty_.

Immediately, he opened the bag to check its contain... only to find, to his horror, that the White Chronicle was not there.

The others seemed to have noticed his distress, and he could hear low chuckles and murmurs as he began to swear under his breath. Steffen muttered something that sounded quite derogatory, but Heinrich could not even find himself caring about whatever the man had said.

_Get a hold of yourself, you old fool! _he thought to himself as he tried to steady his breath. _You must have forgotten it at home. _He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. _The children. They know how important it is._ _They'll watch over it. _

He let out his breath. _Beside, perhaps I won't need it. Today might go without a hitch._

He mulled over this a bit, then grimaced. _Oh, hell. When did things __**ever**__ go without a hitch?_

* * *

To his great surprise, the rest of the day _did_ go by without any strange happenings, and when the sun slowly started its descent, his mind had become more preoccupied by the heat and the itchiness of his leather armour than his earlier oversight.

The other guardsmen at his post had been mostly silent for the day, only giving occasional grunts to communicate. And as far as he could see the southern desert was calm, with no sign of bandits or savage beasts plotting their way into the city.

Heinrich observed the position of the sun, trying to guess what time it was. He squinted his eyes, looking westward. From what he could see without his glasses, a sandstorm was rising somewhere west of the city. Heinrich frowned, suddenly worried. Said sandstorm was approaching at a pace that was absurdly fast...

Before he could contemplate this new information, the trapdoor through which they climbed onto the fortifications opened, revealing a young guardsman. He was red-faced and quite out of breath. He was also obviously terrified out of his wits.

The young man crawled out of the trapdoor, shaking and almost sobbing; he was muttering so fast that no one could make out his words.

"Whoa, kid, calm down," one guardsman named Marius said. He was one of the rare Skallan-born men in their unit. "Keep it slow, what are you going on about?"

The boy ignored Marius, still stumbling on his words and shaking his head frantically. He let out a few loud sobs, catching the attention of a few civilians who gathered near the gate, seemingly to get a better view of what was happening.

Two other soldiers finally helped the young man to his feet. All of his features were twisted into a grimace of pure terror.

"Western gate," he wheezed, "f-from the desert. A g-giant..." he gulped down, "a g-giant _s-sp-spider_."

The men stared blankly at the young scout for a few seconds, before the weight of his words finally seemed to settle in. Immediately, their cool composure cracked. The blood drained from their faces, and under Heinrich's bewildered eyes, they began to argue and shout and flail their arms around. Only Heinrich remained silent and still, brows furrowing in confusion.

"A giant... _spider?_" Heinrich repeated. He turned his gaze to the west again. The cloud of sand had reached the outside of the city walls; he could also see something pale – something _enormous –_ within its midst.

_That's no sandstorm_, he realized dimly, eyes growing large.

The men let out inarticulate, strangled cries as they saw the creature emerge from the dust cloud and hurl its body into the western gate. From under his feet, Heinrich could feel the shock-wave of its assault, even though it was hundred of paces away. The beast rammed into the wall again; Heinrich inhaled sharply as he saw the tiny figures of the people guarding the western gate dropping from the wall like flies.

The trapdoor slammed open again, and Sergeant Tomer came out, his face dripping wet with sweat. The ruckus died down, but only so slightly.

"What are you jokers all doing here?" he roared to subordinates, shutting them up for good. "This isn't the time to just stand there with your mouths dangling open! _Get moving!_"

There was again the loud sound of the stone cracking as the spider flung itself against the gate once more. The noise seemed to snap the rest of the squad out of their daze, and they swiftly ran to the trapdoor. Heinrich, for his part, could not even manage to move a finger, let alone an entire leg.

_Why is he sending us down there? Does he truly expect us to make a difference?_

Tomer grabbed Heinrich by the collar. "When I say 'get moving', that means _everyone_," the Sergeant growled. "So get to it!"

Heinrich wrestled from his grasp, taking a few uncertain steps backwards, incapable of finding the words to talk back to the man. Finally, he turned and ran, jumping through the trapdoor to follow his fellow guardsmen.

* * *

It was chaos down in the city. Heinrich and the rest of his squad had to trudge through the crowd of fleeing citizens, and every time they heard the spider slamming its body against the wall, the panic grew, making their advance even harder.

They had managed to reach the centre of the city when Heinrich heard a explosive noise; he lifted his eyes, seeing rocks flying into the air, and the people's screams intensified as the boulders fell down, crushing everything into their path. A thick cloud of dust rose above the western part of the fortifications – right where the gate was built.

"It broke through," Heinrich murmured.

The soldiers and citizens stood gaping in the direction of the western gate. Heinrich looked over the rooftops, still seeing the cloud of dust – and then long, yellow legs came out of the smoke, climbing over the wreckage...

Heinrich felt like his legs were filling with lead as the people once again began to scream. Their bodies pressed against him, and he let himself be carried by the human wave, desperate to get anywhere but near that _thing_.

A hand roughly grabbed him, its fingers clutching his forearm like a vice.

"There's no time for philosophical contemplation, you imbecile!" Heinrich heard Sergeant Tomer shouting in his ear, "move out, move out, _move out!_" He dragged Heinrich from the crowd, and the bearer of the White Chronicle stumbled before his legs started working properly again, carrying him towards the core of the danger against all his better judgement.

They finally glimpsed the creature only a moment later as they turned a corner, reaching the street that led to the western gate.

Heinrich felt his breath catching in his throat. It was enormous, dwarfing most of the buildings of the city. He was too far away to see it clearly, but he could still spot the crimson splattered against its golden body. Behind the spider, Heinrich saw the remains of the gate, and even from this distance he could hear the survivors cry out for help from under the rubble. The ones who hadn't been so lucky were now nothing more than smudges of red under the rocks.

The remaining guardsmen raised long spears to keep the creature from advancing, while a few others stood on the fortifications and rooftops, shooting at its large back with bows and crossbows. Still, it seemed like a waste of effort to Heinrich. The arrows and bolts bounced off its skin for the most part, and when they did pierce it, it did not even appear to hamper its progress.

The archers unleashed a new slew of arrows, but the spider just continued to thrash around, shrugging them off. Its fangs clicking furiously, the creature suddenly rushed forward, trampling the spear-wielding soldiers in its wake. The guards rose their weapons in a last ditch effort, piercing the monster from every side, before they found themselves impaled on the spider's long, lance-thin legs. The spider then flailed wildly, almost as it was giving a victory cry, and its crimson-stained mandibles scattered drops of fresh blood everywhere

It turned its gaze straight ahead, looking at Heinrich and the remaining soldiers. With surprisingly steady movements, Sergeant Tomer drew his sword, prompting his subordinates to do the same.

"This is it, men. We have to keep that thing outta the city by any mean. And if any of you make a goddamn run for it," he shot Heinrich a murderous look as he said those words, "I swear I'll fetch your intestines through your throat and strangle you with them. Understood?"

As if on cue, the spider charged as the Sergeant completed his sentence. Its movements were erratic, and most of the time it crashed headlong into any obstacle it met in its path; Heinrich also noticed it had not even tried to feed on any of the corpses it had left in his bloody trail. _It __**is **__completely insane,_ he realized. _No animal would act like this in nature!_

As it drew closer, Heinrich found himself taking slow steps backwards. _The Sergeant is mad,_ he thought._ Its range of attack is far longer than ours. We'll be dead before our swords even manage to scratch it!_

Letting out a strangled _tsk_, Heinrich leaped to a small alleyway to his right; he felt a rush of air behind him as one of the spider's legs landed on the spot where he had been standing only seconds prior. As he tumbled to the ground, he heard screams erupting from behind, the sounds accompanied by the disturbing noise of flesh being pierced and torn apart.

Heinrich stumbled back to his feet, giving one desperate glance backward. The members of his squad were either laying in bloody bits on the ground or crawling in the dirt, sobbing like children. In its jaws, the spider held Sergeant Tomer. Heinrich met the man's eyes, holding his gaze for a second that seemed like an eternity, then briskly turned his face away. A terrifying sound of something _snapping_ followed. Heinrich whimpered, and dragged his feet along the alleyway, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature.

_North, go north, to the slums, to the Chronicle, to the __**children**_, his mind raved as he ran, meeting up with the crazed crowd once again. He pushed the people out of his way, his eyes still following what he could see of the beast's back as it towered over the buildings. _It's going north, oh no, please no, not the slums, please no - !_

Cursing under his breath, Heinrich picked up the pace. Going northward, he encountered more and more resistance as the people ran in the opposite direction. He glanced towards the monster again, and a weight settled in his gut as he saw the spider scaling a building, its blood-splattered legs going over the structure with obvious ease.

When he reached the road that led to the northern gate, he was out of breath, and almost certain he was soon going to either heave or faint. All of a sudden, he felt a _whoosh_ of air and dust from behind, and he stopped in his tracks, whirling to find that the spider had jumped from atop the rooftops, landing right in the middle of the northern town square, in front of a group of terrified citizens.

Heinrich saw the flash of a blade as the dark-skinned young man at the head of the group drew a short sword, pointing it at the creature's eight-eyed gaze. Heinrich watched with mounting horror as the spider slowly advanced towards the boy.

_There isn't anything you can do for them_, Heinrich told himself. _Move! _Still, he could not tear his eyes away. _Go find the White Chronicle and get the children out of here! Don't just stand there! You'll get killed!_

The bearer of the White Chronicle ground his teeth together, cursing himself for what he was about to do. Heinrich raised his arms forward, squeezing his eyes shut. He searched deep within himself, capturing every ounce of Mana inside his body, forcing it in a tiny, invisible thread that stretched and stretched until it reached the beast's nightmarish face.

He released a roar as he was encased in the light of the spellcasting, and the Mana flowed from him, following the fuse he had drawn for it. The magical energy gathered and gathered, until the pressure was too much; and with another growl he called upon his magic again, sending a spark into the amassed Mana.

The explosion was stronger than he had predicted, and even from several metres away he felt the heat and the air rushing to his face. There were startled screams as the force of the flare sent the unfortunate civilians flat on the ground. Fortunately, the dark-skinned young man managed to stand quickly, and he limped towards the others to help them get on their feet.

Behind them, the spider was thrashing, a large part of its torso still aflame. Heinrich hesitated as he watched the creature burn, the more rational part of him still shouting that he should take to his heels and get away from here as fast as he could. He spied guards rushing towards the group of civilians, and sighed in relief. _You've done your part. Now leave, you absolute idiot!_

He whirled on his feet, ready to start running again, only to stop when he heard someone shout from behind.

"Sir!" the voice said, "Sir Mage, please wait!"

Heinrich turned to face the one who had spoken. It was the dark-skinned young man who had foolishly tried to protect the other civilians. Only, from this distance Heinrich could now clearly see his features.

"A Satyros!" Heinrich said, staring at the young man's horns. His hair was short and glossy, and darker than the fur that covered his hooved legs.

"Sir Mage, I need your help!" the Satyros said, ignoring Heinrich's slack-jawed astonishment. He grabbed Heinrich by the shoulders, his blue eyes boring into Heinrich's own. "The beast seems to crave Mana. I might be able to do some damage with my magical traps, but only if we can lead it to them. Your spells leave a trace of Mana that might be enough to draw its attention!"

Heinrich had barely understood a word of what the Satyros was going on about, but he still had figured out enough to be wary.

"I'm _not _going back to fight that thing."

The Satyros stared back, frowning.

"What? But aren't you part of the city guard?"

Heinrich opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by several new screams. Heinrich and the young man looked over their shoulders. The spider had stopped flailing, the fire having mostly gone out, and it had begun to move again, its blackened fangs slashing the air furiously. Its eyes appeared to have melted down; even so, it still seemed to know how to find its preys, and it was advancing towards the men guarding the group of injured civilians with slow, shaky steps.

"If we don't stop it here, it will tear its way through the slums," the Satyros boy said to Heinrich, his eyes alight with determination. "How many people do you think would end up losing their lives then?"

Heinrich drew his eyes away from the young man's gaze. _A lot._ He suddenly felt a righteous anger growing from within him, forcing his lips into a snarl. _Including Ernst and Eruca. _

"We have to lure it away from the main road," Heinrich said to the young Satyros. "Do you think you can lay out your trap in that empty alley over there?"

The Satyros quickly looked at the place in question.

"Yes. But it will take some time to cast. Until then, you must keep its attention off me."

Heinrich took his two blades in hands. "You say it has a taste for Mana? Luckily enough, I have plenty to spare." And giving a wry grin, he sprinted towards the creature.

The spider was only a few lengths away from the guardsmen and the civilians when Heinrich scurried behind it, hurling a small fireball on its abdomen. The spider came to a screeching halt, turning on itself to find the one who had attacked it. Its movements were now so slow Heinrich managed to launch another trail of flames across its side; the fire soon gave out, only leaving scorched marks on the golden body, but it was still enough to send the creature into a confused and ineffective rage.

The spider spun to face Heinrich, and it surged at him, its fangs wide open. With a yelp, Heinrich jumped to the side, falling flat on his behind, his daggers dropping uselessly behind him.

"Oh, hell no," Heinrich whispered as the beast loomed over him, its fangs rushing down again. He quickly raised his hands, summoning his Mana once more.

The magical flare exploded right above Heinrich's head, the blow knocking the air out of his lungs, and scorching the creature's face as well as his own palms. He screamed out, tears of pain blurring his eyesight. Still, he couldn't help but smirk as he realized the beast also appeared to be quite in agony.

"Sir!" Heinrich heard the Satyros boy's distant shouting, "sir, it's time!"

Heinrich crawled back to his feet, glancing to the small alley where the Satyros stood. In front of him, a bright blue magical circle shone.

Heinrich began to run towards the young man. His ears caught the sound of the beast's mandibles clicking, and soon he had the horrible realization that the spider was indeed chasing after him.

Heinrich fought back his dizziness, his mind focused on only one thought : that he had to reach the Satyros's trap before the damn creature made a meal out of him. Along the way, he slipped in and out of his Vanish spell, to make sure the spider would have a fresh trail of Mana to follow.

His legs carried him well past the magical trap, and as he ran he looked over his shoulder. The spider was still single-mindlessly pursuing him. Heinrich stopped as he reached the young Satyros's side, and together they watched the creature as it finally entered the magic circle.

There was a brilliant flash of blue light, and the sound of something cracking. All of a sudden, large shards of ice erupted from the lines of the circle, entrapping the legs of the creature. The spider threw its head backwards, almost as if it was crying out in pain, and it struggled against its icy shackles.

"It worked," Heinrich said in astonishment, his legs shaking from fatigue and Mana loss. "_It worked!_"

He and the Satyros approached the ensnared creature, and they were promptly joined by the group of guardsmen. The men began to grin wildly as they came upon the sight. With barbarous cries of victory, they threw their lances at the spider and filled its body with bolts and arrows. Soon, blood sputtered out of a dozen wounds, darkening the creature's golden bristles, and its eight legs seemed to be barely able to hold its great weight. Heinrich sighed contentedly. The beast appeared in its death throes, at last.

Heinrich limped his way towards the dying creature. Two of its legs were twitching. Heinrich's eyebrows slowly rose as he realized the ice was melting...

The young Satyros appeared to have noticed too. "Watch out!" he cried out as the two legs broke free. The creature used its newfound mobility to twist itself out of the ice trap, its legs hitting and flinging a few soldiers into the air. Heinrich watched their screaming forms with increasing panic and tried to move, but his tired feet scarcely responded to his commands anymore.

"_Sir Mage!_" the Satyros shouted again.

Heinrich tried to flee, the young Satyros's distressed face being the last thing he saw before one of the spider's leg slammed into him, sending him crashing into a wall.

* * *

Muffled sounds came to Heinrich's ears. He let out a groan, slowly realizing that he seemed surrounded by people moaning and crying out in pain. Against this backdrop of lamentations, he could make out the whispers of two women and the clattering of some metal instruments.

"Oh! He's starting to move!" he suddenly heard one of the two women saying.

"Good. He was starting to worry me, this one."

A screamed pierced the haze. One of the two women let out an anxious gasp while the other sighed.

"Keep an eye on him," the second woman said; her voice sounded younger. "I'll go check up on the other."

Heinrich could barely hear the sounds of her steps over the harsh noise of the man's wails.

"Got it!" the other replied.

Heinrich cracked one eye open. On his right a woman was standing with her back facing him. She was dressed in white, but fresh bloodstains sullied her uniform. _A healer...? _Heinrich pondered. He tried to move, but a terrible pain surged in his side, and he plopped down on the hard mattress, panting and grunting.

"No, don't move," the woman healer said, "your wounds will open again!"

Heinrich met the woman's eyes.

"Wounds...?" he said, "what... where...?"

"We managed to stop the bleeding with magic, but if you move too much, your wounds might open again. No to mention, you also happen to have three broken ribs. You should stay put if you want these to heal correctly."

Heinrich suddenly remembered how one of the spider's legs had rammed into him, sending him flying. His stomach did a somersault at the memory.

"God..." he muttered, "I managed to survive _that?_"

"You did," the woman said with a bemused smile, "and that's not the end of it. You also managed to end up with a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, burns on both hands, and a broken nose to boot."

Heinrich scowled, but immediately regretted it as the gesture made the pain flare in response. He tried to observe his surroundings without moving too much; he was laying in some makeshift tent hospital filled to the brim with patients – the wounded from the spider's attack, Heinrich realized.

He glanced to his right. On a tiny cot, Ernst and Eruca were sleeping soundly next to one another.

A strangely warm feeling pooled inside him at the sight of them. "How did they – ?" he began, before he interrupted himself, feeling a soft smile teasing his lips, " – _ahhh_, of course they would manage to find out where I was. Those cunning little devils..."

The nurse echoed back his smile. "So they're pretty smart?"

"Too much for their own good, I'm afraid. But how do they manage to sleep with all the screaming going around, now _that's_ a mystery..."

The nurse laughed. "I bet it's because the poor dears are just so tired! When they first got here, they were sick with worry for you. No matter how many times we asked them to leave, they'd never listen to us. In the end, we had to move a bed so they could sleep next to you."

Heinrich's throat tightened.

"I... that's very kind of you."

The healer waved a dismissive hand.

"You shouldn't thank me, that's all the boss's work. Since you saved her man, I guess she wanted to pay you back or something."

"Her man...?"

The nurse pointed to a cot some two or three beds away. Heinrich squinted his eyes, and managed to recognize the jet black hair and horns of the sleeping young man.

_The Satyros boy who helped me!_

"The little trick you've pulled with Amir – that's the boss' sweetheart – turned the tide of the battle in our favour." The nurse grinned from ear to ear. "It was really courageous of you to put your life on the line like that."

The warmth evaporated from Heinrich's smile.

"I don't want to be a hero," he said bluntly. "It might be hard to understand for you, but I really can't afford to die."

The nurse pursed her mouth, obviously quite offended by his rude tone. Before she could place another word, however, the other female voice from before cut her short.

"You really can't."

Heinrich's gaze moved to the newcomer. He slowly took in the horns coming from the messy head of red hair, the long pointed ears, and the legs covered in auburn fur. _Another Satyros...?_

"I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you." she continued, looking at him with a peculiar expression.

"Boss! You're already back! Those healing spells of yours sure work fast!"

The red-haired Satyros girl sighed.

"I had already treated his wounds, but infection still settled in. I only gave him a sleeping draught. There was nothing else to do."

The other nurse quickly averted her eyes. "Oh," she simply said.

The Satyros turned her attentions back to Heinrich. Her gaze became fixed on him in an oddly unsettling way.

"Who are you?" he asked, "how did you...?"

His questions hovered unanswered in the air while she continued to stare at him. Finally, her lips curled into a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry, sometimes I say strange things," she said with a shrug. "Don't pay me any mind when I get in that mood." Her smile grew fonder. "You're the one who protected Amir, aren't you? I'm glad to see you well."

Heinrich wouldn't call three broken ribs and a concussion being _'well'_, but he was in no mood to object to the term.

"I manage the clinic here," she said. "My name is Isla."

Heinrich raised suspicious eyes to meet her pale green gaze.

"You can call me Heiss."

* * *

_Author's notes : Eeeee, sorry for taking so long, and especially with such a crappy, exposition-laden chapter that's just too big for its own good. It gave me a lot of trouble... I hope it still reads at least okay..._

_Firstly, I'd like to thank the kindly anons who left a review last chapter, that's very sweet of you. I'm happy that the RH fandom is still (somewhat) alive ^^'_

_Eruca's fake name is taken from the latin name of the genus of the stock flower, _Matthiola_ (which Stocke was named after). Both _Matthiola_ and _Eruca_ (which is a type of salad, poor girl) are in the Brassicaceae family - botany fact of the day. The number of characters named after plants in the game is endlessly funny to me._

_Other biological fact of the day : Spiders don't have mandibles or jaws, but pedipalps... but I thought the word 'pedipalps' sounds a little too silly, so... yeah, these are magical spiders, shush._

_Also, for some reason I just keep imagining Isla as a red-haired Satyros version of Annie Leonhardt from Attack on Titan (?!), only with a different kind of fringe. I guess I just wanted her to have an awesome nose like her dad. (AoT also factored in this chapter because I kept playing the opening theme on loop as I wrote the fight with the giant spider, hah.)_

_Finally, I deeply debated with myself whether or not to keep Eruca's hair long. I had this amazing image of Eruca being all sad because she's having trouble taking care of her (very thick, very curly) hair and going to her uncle to ask his help, and Heiss freaking out over his complete inability to deal with a little girl's hair (because he'd be the worst parent ever). _


End file.
